


"It’s Just a Cup of Coffee (What Gave Me Away)"

by Gabna43



Series: What She's Thinking [5]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabna43/pseuds/Gabna43
Summary: Ava Sharpe has everything she has ever wanted. She’s a kickass Time Bureau agent who has worked her way up the ranks to become Director Rip Hunter’s right-hand woman and Assistant Director of the agency. Her coworkers respect/fear her, her go team is unrivaled, and her paperwork is pristine.But what if that isn’t enough? Meeting the Legends changes everything for Ava, especially her enraging and exhausting (but intriguing) interactions with Captain Sara Lance.In other words, how does Ava go from trying to arrest Sara to falling for her?Ava's story from episode 3.5 (Return of the Mack) to the Avalance date in 3.12 (Curse of the Earth Totem).
Relationships: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe
Series: What She's Thinking [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633009
Comments: 50
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of my "What She's Thinking" series, though as you can see, it's a bit longer than my previous works. Ava Sharpe was extremely demanding when it came to having her story told, so I let her have her say.
> 
> The title is taken from two relevant Trisha Yearwood songs.
> 
> Special thanks to SwanQueenGranger, as always, for beta reading.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Enjoy!

  
  
  


She was _so_ fucking infuriating. Childish, exasperating, petty, annoying, galling, sexy, frustrating. UGH!

Ava slammed her palm on her desk at the conclusion of the vid call with the subject of her thoughts. She stepped around the desk and began pacing the well-worn space in front of her workspace, clinching and unclenching her fingers as she walked, trying desperately to keep a lid on her irritation.

The latest Legends screw up would once again require Agent Sharpe to stretch the limits of the truth in her weekly report to Director Bennet. She hated the reports with a passion because they required her to interact with the one person who continuously made her lose her cool.

After the Zari Tomaz Incident, the Bureau had determined that wasting valuable time and resources in order to recover the Waverider and capture the Legends was no longer a priority. Bennet and Hunter believed that addressing the burgeoning list of anachronisms was more important to preserve the history of humanity.

That did not mean, however, that the Legends should be forgotten; someone had decided it would be in the Bureau’s best interest to monitor their activities - just in case - and Rip had decided she, of course, was the woman for the job. Ava suspected it was part of her punishment for blinking in Captain Lance’s game of chicken.

The problem was that Agent Sharpe believed the Legends should know they were being monitored _and_ she wanted her reports to be factual because…well, because she was being Ava, and everything needed to be as correct and to letter as possible.

The only way she thought she could achieve both aims was to call the Waverider whenever a mission went sideways. Sara Lance, obviously, objected to such calls, and it was rare that they could speak for more than thirty seconds without the debrief turning into an insult fest.

It did not help either of them that Ava never once acknowledged when they did something well. She felt that doing so only encouraged the Legends to continue swashbuckling across the timeline, as Rip put it. But a part of her also had to acknowledge how tenacious the captain and her team were, if not actually effective, at times. Ava just could not tell the Legends that…ever.

She hated Captain Lance’s completely logical and reasonable explanations of how and why they had abandoned all pretense of a by-the-book-plan once the team was in the field. The captain always had some reason that the mission had to be resolved in the loudest, messiest, wildest way possible, though Ava admitted privately that she too would have saved the baby Dominator in order to protect Dr. Palmer.

She briefly wondered how they had managed to safeguard history for two and half years without a memory flash and had not completely fucked up the timeline even more than they had.

Ava had personally taken part in cleaning up several of the Legends’ mishaps pre-LA, but Rip had kept the Bureau focused most on addressing the anachronisms that resulted from the Legends “breaking time” to save the Spear of Destiny.

Agent Sharpe had long ago noted that Director Hunter rarely wanted agents to consider any of the timeline mess he had been part of creating before Lance became captain, as if he could simply dismiss his own role in leading the Legends exactly into the kind of team they had become.

Ava knew he was a hypocrite, perhaps moreso than anyone else at the Bureau, because as his protégé she occasionally got to see the side of him that believed in rules until those rules no longer served him personally, especially as his seeming obsession with Mallus was growing. But her job was to follow orders, not question them….which is probably why Captain Lance irritated her to no end.

Lance questioned everything; the Legends could be a decent asset, maybe, possibly, if they just followed the damn rules some of the time and didn’t always, _always_ choose the most challenging way forward at every opportunity.

Ava rubbed her temples, trying to stave off the stress headache that was the inevitable result when she clashed with Lance’s decision making, especially when greeted with that knowing, arrogant smirk the captain frequently employed in their “discussions.”

She paused in her myriad thoughts mid pace…wait, sexy?!...oh hell no. HELL NO.

Sara Lance was the bane of her existence, and Ava did not care one bit that the captain could objectively be considered decently attractive.

Her big, gay internal peanut gallery quietly mocked her as a liar.

She sighed. Okay. Sara was _hot_. Ava would have to be dumb and blind not to know that, and she did not lack observation skills.

With renewed determination, she returned to her desk and pulled up her half-written report. She agreed with Lance that it was worth interfering with a fellow federal agency’s mission in order to prevent the Dominators from attacking Earth and that returning the baby to its mother was the absolute right call.

Unfortunately, Agent Sharpe had no idea how she was supposed to document the Legend’s decisions while maintaining her own professional credibility. Everything the Legends did on that mission could have caused massive timeline damage in 1988, but it had not.

She might still call them idiots to their faces, but there wasn’t an in-mission decision Captain Lance or any of team on the ground had made that Ava could fault, even if she would have done it differently.

Thus, she focused most of her disdainful report wording on the Firestorm duo and Mick Rory, who had left their team behind (with good reason, according to the captain) to face the angry mommy Dominator with no way to escape…though she suspected someone might still possess a stolen time courier or two if push came to shove.

Lance refused to tell Ava why the three men had taken the Waverider, not the jumpship, on whatever urgent matter she claimed required their attention, abandoning their crew in a dangerous situation. That refusal had led to another round of verbal warfare and her pounding headache. The captain had hung up on her mid-rant, and she found she couldn’t even blame the Legend as the insults were wearing thin, even to her.

Ava knew herself well enough to know that the verbal sparring was an effective way to keep Lance at a distance, for her own protection. A part of Ava, a growing part, wished that she could just talk to the woman…to Sara, perhaps even get to know her. But she knew that was a wasted wish for another time and another place, as neither of their positions was going to change any time soon.

She turned her attention back to her screen, intentionally ignoring that it was well past the end of the work day. She had no reason to rush home to an empty apartment and had so much more to do, in her own mind, in order to say ahead of the game in this man’s world.

  
  
  


A week later, the claxon sounded loud in her apartment, yanking Ava from a pleasant dream of laughing dimples and crystal blue eyes lazily admiring her.

Before she was truly awake, Ava was fully dressed and well armed, activating her time courier to the Bureau’s emergency bunker.

That alarm, which she had heard only twice previously for practice drills during her five years at the Bureau, meant that multiple teams of Time Bureau agents were under simultaneous attack. Protocol demanded that the people in the top five positions of leadership immediately transport to the emergency bunker in order to preserve the integrity of the Time Bureau’s mission.

Agent Sharpe’s most pressing responsibilities entailed locking down their intelligence and data servers and ensuring that the bunker was fully operational so they could continue to monitor the timeline, even under duress. The mission came first, no matter the situation on the ground beyond these walls.

She knew that the other two Assistant Directors were responsible for personnel management and strike force readiness/reconnaissance/rescue, respectively. In these types of situations, the three ADs were tasked with running the ground ops of the agency while the Directors dealt with the political, social, and historical maneuvers necessary to maintain the agency’s ability to operate.

Thus, Ava expected Rip and Bennett would be in secretive meetings with other government agency directors to determine what, if any, additional assistance the Bureau needed.

She quickly completed her assigned emergency tasks, locking the Bureau offices down and transferring all authorization to the bunker, and went to find her associates to determine what she could do to assist in whatever crisis they were facing.

Ava may have reviewed this protocol hundreds of times, and she was well versed in what needed to happen and when. But she was completely unprepared for the chaos that met her when she stepped through the doors into the bunker’s main hub.

Agent Shepard, the AD responsible for the strike force, was yelling at the three agents nearest him to gear up for a rescue op while HR Director Tracey, the AD for personnel management continuously countermanded those operational orders.

Additional go team agents were prepped in spec ops gear but stood leaning against the outer wall of the bunker, heads down, upset, some stoic, some stone-faced, some crying.

The few agents who manned the bunker 24/7 silently watched either the screens in front of them or the argument between ADs, seemingly helpless to do more than blankly stare.

Regardless of the situation, Ava recognized that her first task was to get this too-public spectacle under control to the best of her ability. 

She whistled loudly, which stilled the argument and forced both of her compatriots to turn to her. She glared pointedly at them and then gestured to the ready room, the small conference room past the bank of analysts. In Ava’s mind, the most important thing she could do for the mission was contain this discussion to an area well out of range of the listening field agents and operators.

Both Shepard and Tracey turned on their heels with military precision to walk toward the conference room, each giving the other heated looks. Ava shook her head slightly and moved to follow them when the mission feed playing on the big screen above sitcom garnered her attention.

She slowed to a stop. The others, noticing that she had stopped, returned and, noting what she was watching, chose to stand on either side of her.

Silent sentinels to the death and mayhem the villains on screen were visiting undeterred on five go teams of agents.

The feed was broadcast from a broken time courier camera, cracked glass spiderwebbing across the screen, the view haphazardly angled, its owner likely dead but doing one last measure of duty by remembering to activate his/her transmitter.

But Ava and everyone else in the room had an agonizingly clear vision of the events.

Now Agent Sharpe understood why Shepard and Tracey’s emotions were so raw. She could not emotionally process what she was seeing. Even her standard m.o. of intellectualizing anything that created an emotional challenge would not work here. Ava felt herself begin to completely shut down, numbing herself into shock.

Damien Darhk was enjoying himself, drinking, toying with the agents, and dancing around as he broke them, fracturing necks, obliterating spinal columns, slamming them wholesale against each other and against the stone floor. He treated the good men and women with whom Ava served as ragdolls to destroy for his own amusement. Ava’s blood boiled, even as her stomach turned.

A dark-haired woman flanked Darhk, meting out her own pain and death to the agents attempting to bring them in to the Bureau. Agent after agent was struck down, blood spurting, voices garbled, crying for help, begging for additional backup. Fighting and dying until there was no one left standing…except two that Ava could now see more plainly.

Though the picture was partially obstructed, Ava recognized Rip, especially when he pulled a time master trick to momentarily pause the action around him. She noted that his first instinct was not to get the few still-alive, still suffering agents to safety or to assist the other person, who she now recognized as Zari Tomaz, also fighting against Darhk’s lackeys or to call for additional backup from the Bureau.

No, Rip’s first instinct was to go after Damien Darhk himself, everyone else be damned.

Ava not yet been briefed on what Rip was doing or why multiple teams of agents were fighting Darhk in what appeared to be a Victorian-era room of some sort. For Bennet to approve such a large response team of agents, there had to have been a good reason. Ava trusted the Bureau to work in certain ways – there were always rules and always reasons for the rules.

But what she was witnessing was not about Bureau red tape or who knew what and when. She was watching human carnage. She recognized many of the stilled, bloodied and battered faces of the agents downed near the camera wearer.

Rip, however, seemed completely calm and unworried as he moved to confront Darhk, wordlessly stepping over his own dead and injured agents without batting an eye. Those agents had wives, husbands, neighbors, friends, children, girlfriends, some of whom were sitting in this room as their hearts were ripped apart by the events on screen.

She and everyone else in the bunker watched as Darhk turned and began to choke him, draining Rip’s life. No one moved. No one argued they should rush in to save Director Hunter. No one made any noise beyond the occasional sob.

It was an awful still life painting.

Leave it to a Legend to literally come swinging in to interrupt the tableau.

Ava was so numb that she did not even flinch in response to Sara’s heroic entrance. She should have been grateful and appreciative of Sara and Amaya’s riding to the rescue, but there was really no one left to rescue at that point. All her agents were dead.

She observed the exact moment on Sara’s face when the Legend recognized the extent of the damage and gravity of the losses the Bureau had sustained because of Rip’s choices.

The pain, anger, and revulsion that she saw from Sara mattered to Ava for some reason. When Lance glanced back at Rip with her lips curled in disgust, Ava echoed the sentiment.

Agent Sharpe turned away from the screen and strode once more purposefully toward conference room. Shepard and Tracey followed.

When they reached the ready room, Ava gestured for the others to enter in front of her, giving her a chance to take a deep, long breath and settle her shoulders for the nasty, overwhelming business ahead. She softly shut the door and walked to the front of the room, habit and instinctual leadership taking over in the face of such a cluster.

The two others sat, glared at each other, previous argument not quite subsided, and then turned to face Ava, waiting for her to speak.

Her face was completely locked down, emotionless. She did not have the time or the emotional tools to process what they had just witnessed, so she had to set her personal feelings aside for the good of the Bureau, for the good of the mission.

She softly cleared her throat and put her hands behind her in military style.

“Do we have a strategy for recovery?”

Her words fell into a charged silence before she pointedly looked at Agent Shepard.

He shook his head slightly, but his voice was firm, though stoic. “We have contingency plans for a large casualty event, but my assets are not yet in place.” He glared at the HR Director. “I had hoped that this might be a rescue mission.”

Ava nodded once. “Then we need to move those assets into place immediately. We cannot afford the –“ she stumbled “– remains of our colleagues to be _tampered with,_ especially by the followers of Damien Darhk.”

The HR Director spoke for the first time. “Agent Sharpe, before you arrived, the woman with Mr. Darhk indicated that she was his daughter. This appears to be the work of a large cult, yet no one” she glared at Agent Shepard “was aware that such a group existed, especially in Victorian London.”

Shepard took in a breath to respond, but Ava cut him off quickly, trying to avoid further turmoil which would do nothing but add more pain and frustration to this already horrific day.

“I will take that up with Directors Bennet and Hunter when we next meet.”

Shepard laughed sharp and cruel. “Director Hunter better hope that you see him first because I may break his neck if I see him any time soon.” Ava held his gaze, unwilling to back down but also unwilling to contradict his feelings.

“Agreed,” Tracey muttered, to the surprise of both Ava and Shepard. “What do you all expect me to say? He led our agents into a slaughter for his own purposes. We saw it. _They_ all saw it,” she said heatedly, sweeping her arms in the direction of the hub.

Shepard nodded.

Tracey continued. “Do you know how many families I have to call? Do you know how many loved ones I will have to hear sob tonight? And for what?!” The woman slammed out of her chair and began to pace the length of the room. “Agent Sharpe, you of all people know how erratic Hunter has been of late. How could he have done this?”

Ava opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. She sighed. There was nothing she could say here. Shepard and Tracey were absolutely right. Rip had abandoned any pretense that he cared for his charges more than his own mission, his own ideas.

They remained like that for several minutes: HR Director Tracey pacing, soundless tears streaming down her face; Agent Shepard staring into nothingness, fists clinching and unclenching; and Ava silently clenching her jaw over and over again, mourning for the downed agents and increasingly angry at her mentor.

She took another deep breath. Though Ava knew they needed time to deal with what they had witnessed, time was still of the essence.

She spoke calmly but sternly. “Liz. Richard.” Ava intentionally used their first names, pulling them away from the stiff formality of the Bureau toward the very real human cost of their jobs. They turned to her, waiting with stormy but attentive eyes.

She stepped forward, placing her hands on the table and leaning toward them.

“We have to set this aside, set this anger and pain aside, and go do our jobs. Now.”

She held their gaze for a beat before continuing. “I will contact Bennet. AD Shepard, you need to get the recovery teams in there immediately. AD Tracey, your people should draw up a list of the deceased and begin your notifications.” Ava paused once more.

“I do not know where this leaves any of us, but I promise you that I will not rest until we have some kind of explanation for why these agents died tonight.” She let them see the fury, grief, ache, and fire in her own eyes. “These people were our friends and family, and we will do what it takes to make this right.”

Ava straightened up, stepping away from the table, and strode out of the room toward the small office set aside for her in the bunker.

She trusted that Tracey and Shepard would do their jobs, and before she softly pushed the door to her office closed, she heard their voices giving the necessary orders to their respective teams.

Before she had even fully sat behind her desk, her vid screen chimed.

“Agent Sharpe,” he said crisply, seemingly unruffled by the circumstances.

“Director Bennet.”

“I assume that a recovery operation is underway to address our losses in London.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Tracey is notifying next to kin?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded and then paused. “Do we have any information on the current whereabouts of Director Hunter and the Legends?”

“No, sir, we don’t. I will get my team on that immediately.” Ava mentally listed who she would want as part of that task force before she was interrupted.

Bennet tilted his head slightly, then spoke with derision. “Those morons have been exceptionally good at evading us, and tonight’s events make me wonder if Hunter has been helping them the whole time.”

Ava hoped her quick intake of breath at that statement, both at the harshness directed (fairly) at Rip and at his unfair characterization of the people who had just risked their lives trying to help when the Bureau plainly had not been able to take care of its own, remained unnoticed. She kept her face as indifferent as possible, and she said nothing.

“Regardless, we need someone to answer for this abject failure of a mission. Agents lives were lost, Agent Sharpe. Someone must pay. I leave it in your hands to determine who and how.”

“Yes—” Bennet hung up on her.

Ava exhaled slowly and deeply. What a horrible night, and it was just beginning for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Sara...

Hours later, Ava stood from her computer, throat parched and aching from the yelling, cajoling, and threatening she had, had to do in order to get everyone at the Bureau moderately functional. She was not allowed to leave the bunker until every task was complete – bodies recovered, scene wiped, families notified, investigative team formed and dispersed into the timeline to find Rip.

To get all of that done required a firm hand and a loud voice sometimes.

Without Bennet, the onus for all the above rested on her shoulders, even if a flowchart of leadership might technically suggest otherwise. The weight of that responsibility added to her emotional exhaustion as she pushed her own feelings deep and focused on the mission. 

Ava longingly thought about the soft, warm bed she had left so soon after finally getting home from her usual long night of paperwork, only to be drug into these emergency protocol procedures. She hoped she would see her bed again soon, but with little clue as to where the Waverider and their Director could be, she doubted that was the case.

She stretched, trying to regain feeling in her extremities and felt the room spin a bit. Ava needed to rest for a few minutes and probably could stand some warm food. Thankfully, her small office space included an even smaller cot. The powers that be knew that none of them were at their best without at least some rest, even during an emergency. The food would have to wait, as the idea of heading into the bunker kitchen surrounded by other agents - grieving, angry agents - was far too much for her to deal with at the moment.

Ava notified her fellow ADs that she was stepping away for a power nap of 30 minutes, turned off all of her devices, and then laid down on the extremely uncomfortable surface in an attempt to let her body recover in some small way from the events of the evening.

A gentle but steady touch on her shoulder woke her.

Ava knew she had not been asleep very long, but she definitely remembered locking her office door and notifying everyone that she was off the clock and should be left undisturbed for at least half an hour.

As her brain pulled her abruptly back into awareness, she knew that she had woken up for one of two reasons – either the situation had unexpectedly worsened and someone, like Gary, had been sent in as the sacrificial lamb to notify her _or_ her office had an unauthorized entry of some kind. She remained still with her eyes closed for a few seconds, allowing her senses to extend, and then she was flying up off the cot with her gun drawn.

Captain Lance stood a few feet away, her palms out, as best she could while holding two cups and a brown bag, with a small, tired smile on her face.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Lance?” Ava did not lower her weapon, too intensely angry after the night she had, had. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

At the second question, the captain’s smile drifted slightly into a knowing smirk.

Moving slowly, as if she was not sure if Ava would shoot her or not, she gestured to the cups and bag in her hands. “I thought you could use some coffee.”

Of all the things she could ever imagine Sara Lance saying to her in these circumstances -- staring down the barrel of her gun, completely unconcerned, for the second time in as many months -- offering her coffee would be among the last.

She suspected her face showed her stunned confusion and disbelief. Ava kept her weapon pointed at the captain, who sighed.

“Look, Agent. We’ve both had a really shitty night, and I just needed to talk to you about something privately. I didn’t want one of your Bureau goons listening in on the call and using it to trace us or something.” ...which is exactly what Ava would have done had the woman called.

Come to think of it, Ava should be sounding the intruder alarm, but honestly, she was too exhausted. She also didn’t see any harm in listening to whatever ridiculous information Captain Lance wanted to share.

She glared at the Legend but slowly lowered her weapon. “For the record, I could have twenty paratroopers in here in less than five seconds,” she taunted, just to make it clear that she held the power position here.

The captain grimaced. “For the record, I would hate for more of your agents to lose their lives tonight.” Ava recoiled as if she’d been slapped, and she stared hard at the floor, biting her tongue to prevent the red-hot anger and searing grief from pouring out all over the woman.

Lance shifted uncomfortably as it was clear she had upset Ava with her quick retort. “That wasn’t a threat against you or them, Agent Sharpe.”

She paused, as if willing Ava to believe her. “I am truly sorry for your loss,” she finished, almost whispering.

Ava’s head slowly lifted, and she studied Captain Lance, searching her eyes. She saw only grief and familiar exhaustion facing her; all arrogance, joking, sarcasm was absent. Lance was serious in her condolences. She dropped her chin a little in response, and the woman relaxed, bringing her hands down.

After a moment, Sara (Ava couldn’t help but call her that privately) gestured to the cups in her hand. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee, so I brought options.” She smiled a little, lifting the cups in the agent's direction.

Ava sat back on her cot in a huff, but returned the smile with a brief, sad upturn of her own lips. “What I drink depends on why I am drinking.” Sara tilted her head a bit and laughed knowingly. “What are my options?”

“Nothing fancy. Gideon can do pretty much anything, but I could only carry two cups, so I guessed – Irish coffee with enough whiskey and Irish cream to burn going down or dirty chai tea, extra dirty, with low fat milk.”

Ava’s mouth fell open a little. “How?”

Sara chuckled. “How did I guess what you usually drink? Gideon hacked the Bureau computers to see what you send for when you are working overtime.” Ava shook her head.

“Oh yes, I know. Abuse of government resources, violation of procedures, yada yada.”

The agent glared in response. The captain grinned a little too innocently. “So, which one?”

“After the day I have had, the whiskey seems ideal.” Sara handed her one of the cups, then settled into Ava’s desk chair. Ava raised an eyebrow which the Legend completely ignored.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their coffees, both staring into space and lost in their own thoughts.

“What’s in the bag?” Ava gestured to the edge of the desk as Sara sat up and shook her head a bit, as if clearing her mind.

“Oh. I brought donuts.”

“You brought me…”

“—donuts, yes. Some of Zari’s favorites. Honestly, she has a donut addiction, and I grabbed a few from her latest batch.” Ava just stared at her as if she’d lost her mind, which given the current situation for them both, that was beginning to look like a real possibility. Sara was quiet for a few seconds when Ava didn’t reply.

“Does that mean you don’t want any?”

“Give me a damn donut, Lance,” she said, voice low and gruff.

Sara handed her the bag and then took a deep breath, clearly preparing to launch into whatever conversation she had come here to have.

“Wait.” Ava gestured at her with a powdered donut, which dampened the intensity of the moment immensely.

The captain paused, waiting for Ava to continue.

“Before you tell me the plan you have concocted, I want to know how you knew where a top-secret, level five government bunker was located and how the hell you got into this office undetected.”

“No.”

“No?” Ava’s eyebrows jumped a bit.

“Yeah. No, I won’t tell you how I got in here. A girl has to keep some secrets.”

“An assassin you mean.” Sara tossed her a side glare.

“Potato, potahto.”

“No one says potahto, Lance. Don’t be ludicrous.”

“Whatever, Sharpe. I’m not telling you how I got through all of your security and got in here, mostly because we are running out of time.” Toward the end of her statement, the playful taunting present in Sara’s voice disappeared. It was time to get down to business.

“I have a proposition for you, Agent Sharpe.”

Ava was intrigued, against her will. She didn’t really want to care about what deal Captain Lance was offering, but the coffee and the donuts were breaking through her resolve.

It really had been a shitty night, and the fact that Sara had taken the time to bring her food and a hot drink for no reason other than to be thoughtful was hard to reconcile with her admittedly biased negative view of the woman.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Let’s hear it. As you said, you don’t have all day as Gary is supposed to arrive in” she checked her watch “five and a half minutes.”

Sara sighed. “I’ll talk fast.”

Ava gestured for her to get on with it.

“I have Rip, and I will happily give him to you in exchange for our freedom from the Bureau,” she said, without emotion.

That was… _unexpected_. Ava was a little shocked.

“You want to turn Rip over…to the Bureau.” Sara nodded once, her mouth held in firm, tight line. “Why?”

“He betrayed us both, Agent Sharpe. Maybe one day I will tell you the whole story if you want to know, but to make this short and sweet, he lied to me and put my team at risk.” She stared at the floor.

“And he let the man who murdered your sister come back from the dead,” Ava immediately rejoined.

Sara went completely still, anger and grief briefly flitting across her face before she schooled her features into blankness.

She turned to regard Ava but spoke so softly the agent had to lean forward to hear what she said. “Yes, and that.”

Ava leaned back and mulled her options. Half of the Bureau believed the Legends were a joke and the other half believed they were a menace. While the Bureau needed to maintain some tether on the Legends in Agent Sharpe’s mind, confronting Rip and holding him accountable for the night’s events was something many people wanted and needed.

Yes, the so-called heroes were a danger to the timeline on occasion, but Rip was a much bigger danger to the mission and the agents of the Time Bureau. He had put his own schemes ahead of everyone else, including the Legends, apparently, and many good men and women had lost their lives.

Sara began to fidget a little, likely ready to be on her way before Gary or anyone else arrived. They were short on time.

“I will make this deal with two conditions.”

Sara rolled her eyes and sighed. “ _Of course_ you have conditions.”

“Do you want to hear them or not?” Ava smirked.

The Legend crossed her arms and leaned back, gesturing for the agent to continue.

“#1, you are free to pursue missions as long as you send me a brief after-action report upon successful completion.” Sara nodded once in agreement to that stipulation.

“#2, you turn the Waverider’s corresponder back on so that we know where you are if we need to find you.” The captain did not appear to appreciate this condition.

“Why would the Bureau need to know where we are 24/7? That feels suspiciously like monitoring, not freedom.” Sara crossed her arms and glared at Ava, but she stopped speaking, allowing Ava a chance to offer an additional explanation.

“I would like to know where you are for safety and security reasons because it is my ass on the line, too.” Sara seemed a bit surprised to hear that last bit of info. “Here is what I propose as a compromise. Gideon sends me, and me alone, the Waverider’s coordinates whenever you jump to a new destination. To my courier. No one but me has access to this device, and it is locked down with the highest-level Bureau security money can buy.”

Sara sat forward and rested her head on her arms now resting on her knees. “So, we can go on missions as long as I send you a short update at the end of the mission, and we are free from Bureau observation as long as you personally know where we are with regularly updated coordinates. Those are your conditions?”

Ava nodded and reached out her hand to signal they should shake on it. “And the Legends agree to turn Rip over to the Bureau.”

“Agreed, Agent Sharpe.” Sara shook her hand firmly but quickly.

“Agreed, Miss Lance.” The woman winced a bit as Ava steadfastly refused to give her the respect of her title, but Sara also suspected it was part of the agent’s attempts to clearly define and maintain professional boundaries with everyone, regardless of the circumstances.

Ava stood, and Sara quickly followed suit.

The agent glanced down and grimaced. “We are out of time.” The Legend nodded. “I trust you can get out the same way you got in.” Sara just smirked. “Very well then. You have about thirty seconds before Gary gets here.”

A knock sounded, and Ava turned to the door, preparing to block the view into her office if necessary to give Sara the time she needed to get out. She wasn’t sure why she cared, but she didn’t want the Legend to get caught. They had a mutually beneficial deal in place, and Sara’s arrest would certainly hamper that.

Ava smoothed down her suit and tightened her bun, simultaneously stalling and making herself presentable after her supposed nap.

She unlocked the door, and as usual, Gary barged his way into her office seemingly oblivious to any concept of boundaries or privacy and immediately launched into a lengthy report regarding what she had missed in the last thirty minutes.

As she turned back to her office, she was a bit startled that Sara Lance was nowhere to be seen. Even if the midst of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, one which weighed heavily on Ava’s heart and mind, she could not help but smile, a small, private smile only to herself. Lance was something else. What exactly Ava didn’t know but definitely something else. She returned to her to her desk to finish drinking her Irish coffee while Gary prattled on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - Bennet is a total bastard in this story.
> 
> I don't own the Legends, and no copyright infringement is intended on the few lines taken directly from the show. I'm simply trying to keep it canon in certain spots that matter. : )

  
  
  


“Absolutely not, Agent Sharpe.” The dismissive, condescending tone rubbed her the wrong way, as it always did when dealing with her boss.

“Director Bennet –“

“Agent Sharpe!” Ava stopped immediately. She had to be careful because Bennet was one vindictive, thin-skinned, son of a bitch who never let you forget a perceived wrong against him.

She had barely had two hours of sleep in the last 34 hours. Her emotions were frayed, she was emotionally and physically exhausted, but she needed to keep herself together for a bit longer to finally make it out of the bunker and back home. To finally be able to put down the heavy obligations and be able to rest…to feel…to take off the mask and be herself, not Agent Sharpe, for just a few sacred seconds. She stifled a sigh as Bennet began again.

“I did not authorize a deal. We will not honor whatever drabble you and that woman concocted. It’s ridiculous that you even wasted my time with this nonsense.”

It had taken her most of the day to even get through to Bennet. While she and the other ADs were running the Bureau, he had been in meetings all day, though she wasn’t sure what could have been more important than the agents and people down here on the front line trying to make sense of the previous night’s slaughter.

“Sir, with all due respect,” she pushed as much as she felt she could, using a careful, considerate tone.

Bennet motioned impatiently for her to continue.

“Director, we have no way of tracking the Waverider. Unless we complete this trade, Director Hunter will be lost to us.”

He stared at her impassively.

“Sir, once we have Director Hunter, we can hold a tribunal. The Bureau needs to find answers in the deaths of our colleagues. Everyone who witnessed last night’s events will want to testify in the investigation. We can begin to move forward as an agency.”

He pursed his lips but seemed to be at least considering her words.

“You’d sell out your mentor to protect this team of morons?” he asked shrewdly, narrowing his eyes. Ava visibly jerked at the suggestion.

“No, sir. That’s _not_ what this is. I am _not_ protecting the Legends.” She struggled to maintain her composure because while she had begun to view them as something other than mere idiots, her actions were motivated entirely by her devotion to the Bureau and to the agents who had been struck down. To suggest otherwise was a grave insult to her.

“I think, perhaps, just like Hunter, you have gotten too close to the situation to maintain any kind of perspective. Maybe we need to bring Tracey and Shepard into this conversation.”

“Agreed, sir.”

Ava appreciated the opportunity to step out of the Director’s feed view because she could take a deep, calming breath. Losing her temper with Bennet was a one-way ticket to permanent desk duty, especially without Rip there as her ally.

She suspected Bennet’s increased level of assholishness was partially due to the clusterfuck of the night before, but she also thought he knew more about Rip’s mission and the numerous now-dead agents than he was admitting…likely to deflect responsibility.

She stepped out of her office and gestured for her two colleagues chatting with their teams in the bunker’s main hall to join her.

Once they had, Director Bennet laid out the deal Ava had proposed to him…well as much of the deal as he knew.

Ava may have left out one tiny detail in her description of the deal with Sara in that she didn’t tell Bennet and didn’t plan to tell anyone in the Bureau that in addition to the mission reports and the regular check-ins with Ava that Captain Lance had agreed to, she personally would also know where and when the Legends were on a daily basis.

She wasn’t sure why it felt important to keep this information to herself, and she didn’t really have time to think about it. But she was not going to change her mind on that omission now.

“Do you all have any comments on this so-called deal Agent Sharpe has graced us with?”

The two ADs eyed Ava and then each other briefly before Shepard spoke first.

“Sir, Agent Sharpe is closer to Director Hunter than anyone in the Bureau. My belief is that her actions in this matter have illustrated her loyalty to the Bureau and to her agents, not to Director Hunter. If she says this deal with the Legends, while certainly unconventional, will prevent Hunter from disappearing and begin to bring justice for our fallen agents, then I say we go ahead with the exchange.”

Bennet turned to Tracey, waiting for her to weigh in as well.

“Director Bennet, to be quite honest, throughout this entire episode Agent Sharpe has been the one holding the line for us down here. She has been steady and decisive. We all saw what happened, and truth be told, it appeared as if the Legends tried to save the lives of our colleagues. I agree that we do not have the entire story, and it seems that the only person who knows the whole story will likely disappear if we do not make an attempt to bring him in quickly. If Agent Sharpe recommends this course of action, then I concur with her plan.”

Their boss remained silent for a few minutes.

All three stood at attention, waiting for him to make a decision. As the minutes dragged on, Ava suspected he got some enjoyment out of keeping them standing.

As long as Ava had known him, the Director reveled in orchestrating power moves. He fancied himself some kind of stalwart leader, but in her mind, effective leadership came from the loyalty that you earned from your team, not as a result of manipulative power plays.

But she stood, impassively, refusing to show any outward sign of her growing impatience.

He sighed, long and loud, as if his job and this conversation had become tedious to him.

“Very well, Agent Sharpe. Since you three seem to be on the same page, I will allow this deal to continue. Under my direct supervision of course.” He smirked as he finished.

“Sir,” Shepard spoke up quickly, as if to prevent Bennet’s smug arrogance from provoking a well-deserved response from Ava. “Might I accompany your team as well? This is a security matter, after all.”

The Director nodded. “It’s settled. Make the arrangements with those losers, Agent Sharpe. We will make Hunter answer for this outrage.” He cut the feed before any of them could respond.

Liz Tracey glanced at Ava with mirth in her eyes. “I do so love these little chats with him sometimes.”

Ava turned toward her desk swiftly to hide her slight smile. She cleared her throat.

“Yes, well. It seems I have a call to make.”

Tracey laughed softly. “Have fun with that.” She and Shepard stepped out of Ava’s space.

Shepard called over his shoulder, “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can all go home.”

Ava settled in front of her console and called the Waverider.

When the call connected and her eyes met ice blue eyes, all she said was, “I’m ready.”

Coordinates immediately pinged on her courier, as the captain disconnected the feed without a word.

“…how to be a cold son of bitch.”

It was clear to Ava that their arrival had interrupted a very intense conversation between the captain and Rip.

Lance stood with her arms crossed, body tense, almost like a lit, slow-burning powder keg, glaring at him.

As Ava, Bennet, and Shepard walked across the bridge, she turned away, moving to lean against a table at the side of the office as the Bureau team confronted Director Hunter and making it obvious to everyone with her body language that she no longer stood with or by Rip.

Ava was horrified that Rip didn’t even try to apologize for the loss of life under his watch or to defend his own decision making. His first comments addressed how successful the mission was because it proved his suspicions about Mallus correct. Unfortunately, no other Bureau agent alive could support this so-called proof, and Ava doubted Bennet would have use for Zari Tomaz’s first-hand account of what she had seen.

Agents were dead and families were grieving, but Rip seemed to believe that the notes he had added to his precious notebook were more important.

She wondered if he had offered a similar viewpoint in his conversation with Sara immediately before they arrived. If so, no wonder the captain sat rigidly, almost vibrating.

She should not be paying any attention to the Legend, but she wanted to reach out to her, to say something, though she had no idea what she’d say, especially right now. In this moment, though, they were on the same side and that mattered to Ava after months of harshness and barbed, heated exchanges.

The only reason the Bureau could even be here was Sara’s good faith offer, one made in exchange for protection for her team. In contrast to the leadership she was experiencing from either Bureau Director, Lance gave a damn about the people in her command.

Ava turned her attention fully back to the Bureau conversation when Rip had the nerve to appeal to her directly, as if she could or even _would_ prevent his detainment. She may be his protégé, but she fully agreed with Bennet’s decision for Rip to stand at the tribunal. There was simply no excusing his actions, regardless of how much he had supported her career in the past.

Unfortunately, however, Rip calling to her drew Bennet’s attention. She suspected her actions over the next few weeks would be under intense scrutiny. The last thing she wanted was for the Director to believe she supported Rip’s actions or his obsessions. With the slight shake of her head, she made it clear to everyone in the room that, like Sara, she no longer could stand with or by Rip.

As Bennet and Shepard moved to take Rip away, Ava made a quick decision. Consequences be damned, even with Bennet’s suspicions falling squarely on her, she had to say something to the captain before she returned to the Bureau.

“Thank you for notifying us of Director Hunter’s whereabouts.” She tried to communicate her genuine appreciation for Sara reaching out to her the best way she knew how with the three men standing in the room with them. Ava was aware that her boss was watching her and listening to her exchange.

“Now the Legends are free to fly the skies?” Sara briefly stared down before lifting her eyes to meet Ava’s gaze.

“Affirmative.” Ava couldn’t hold Sara’s eyes.

She hoped the Legend understood that she needed to be pointedly, overtly professional right now. Ultra-hardass, non-wavering Time Bureau Assistant Director, Agent Sharpe.

“The Time Bureau has bigger things to worry about than a bunch of _idiots_.” It was impossible to even look in the Legend’s direction as she said it, but she intentionally peered at Bennet, who nodded minutely.

He glowered at her, then Shepard and directed them to move out, pulling Rip behind them.

Ava didn’t turn around, but she did hear Rip begging Sara to prepare herself and the rest of the Legends for the incoming threat. She couldn’t see the captain’s reaction, yet she sincerely hoped that Lance would listen.

Ava suspected that her own hands were well and truly tied in terms of making any attempts to prepare the Bureau for the threat of Mallus, if such a thing did exist. While she may not have backed Rip up on the Waverider’s bridge, she knew he was likely correct in his concerns about the time demon. Too many events, too many anachronisms suggested that a larger, darker force was at play.

As Agent Sharpe, she may not be able to do anything from an official standpoint, but she would do whatever she could unofficially to start putting the pieces in place for a somewhat adequate Bureau response if, in fact, Mallus arrived as Hunter predicted. More importantly, Ava would do whatever it took to back the Legends in the war ahead as she speculated it would be Captain Lance’s team on the front line of the battle that might be, probably was coming.

As she opened the portal and the group stepped back into the Bureau offices, her thoughts briefly strayed to the woman left alone on the bridge behind her. She genuinely hoped that Lance kept the remaining conditions of their bargain, for more reasons than she was willing to admit at the moment.

Another Friday night, another night sipping wine alone on her couch while reading a true crime suspense novel. At least Ava had managed to get home before 8 or 9pm unlike every night previous this week.

Paperwork was the worst. And paperwork in response to a mission gone wrong was simply dreadful. Ava had to keep her mind completely focused on the procedures and bureaucratic explanations while in the office; otherwise she’d notice the empty desks and the hushed, pained voices surrounding her.

The upcoming tribunal was never far from her mind. She had been able to visit Rip several times, but Bennet ensured that she was never alone with her former mentor.

Even when they were given a modicum of privacy with only one other agent standing in the background, Rip offered her no reassurances that he was not the self-righteous, selfish, obsessed head case who would willingly sacrifice hundreds of agents if he had the chance to do it all over again.

The only subject on which they could communicate without her bitter disappointment and anger erupting was Sara Lance and the Legends. Hunter seemed to know the full extent of her deal with Sara, how she had no idea, but she had suspicions. She thought that the Waverider’s annoying AI, Gideon may have had limited contact with Rip even there in Bureau confinement.

Regardless, he knew that she knew what the Legends were up to, or at least where they were, and that she cared (perhaps more than just professionally) about them. Or rather, he insinuated that he knew she cared about what happened to Sara.

She brushed off his searching innuendo. Even if she had spent more than a few minutes replaying the last time she had seen the captain…

appreciating the way that Sara’s extremely toned arms were on full display in that thirsty tank top…

admitting how weak in the knees that particular look would make her under other circumstances...

she didn’t have to admit that to Rip or to anyone else.

What went on in her own mind was her own business.

The reality of the situation was that Captain Lance could only be the subject of her occasional fantasies, nothing more. Her realistic hopes were limited to developing a cordial, perhaps friendly-like working relationship.

However, making sure that the Legends were in fighting shape was business she could share with Rip. She had reassured him earlier in the week that all was well as far as she was able to tell and that the latest information she had placed the team in 1930s Hollywood, where she was sure they would find a way to cause her ulcers but somehow miraculously save the day anyway.

She sighed, restless, unable to concentrate on the book in her hand. She had read the same paragraph more than once. Ava simply could not let herself relax enough to enjoy reading, even though it was one of her favorite ways to unwind.

For some reason, Ava was antsy, as if there was somewhere else she was supposed to be right now, some task left unfinished.

She placed the true crime novel on her dining room table, carefully marking her place with the Stanford University bookmark that faithfully tracked alongside her voracious reading habit since she’d graduated almost a decade before.

Ava stood in her spotless kitchen, hands on her hips, eyes scanning her space, frustrated but unable to decipher the reason for her general unease.

Deciding she was simply out of sorts due to residual feelings from work, she moved into her bedroom to change into workout clothes. A round of sparring in the Bureau dojo or a long run would help her shake this vague feeling of foreboding.

She was several miles into a brisk run on one of the city park’s most challenging crosstrek trails when her courier sounded. Ava paused, gulping some water and wiping her face before she read the message.

“Gideon: Agent Sharpe, Hollywood anachronism has been successfully addressed. Mission report from Captain Lance will be delayed. All is well. Will send next coordinates if the team determines another mission is advantageous.”

_Hmm._

There was nothing unusual about Gideon sending her a brief message to let her know a given mission was completed. She had not asked that Sara let her know when the Legends had crossed another anachronism off the map beyond the agreed-to mission reports, which could be sent to her at any point, preferably before they jumped into a new mission.

But she’d been getting short messages like this one throughout the week as the Legends had dealt with several minor hiccups in the timeline. Ava had appreciated the AI, certainly at Sara’s command, keeping her more in the loop than she could have imagined was possible.

But this message was… _off_. Ava’s sense of disquiet returned. She was sure if something was seriously wrong with the team that Sara would let her know.

The wording of Gideon’s message seemed a little _too_ precise, as if it had been carefully crafted to limit what it was saying while appearing to be standard operating procedure.

However, beyond pointless speculation, there was really nothing Ava could do. She wasn’t friends with the Legends, and she certainly did not have enough experience with communicating with Gideon to know for sure whether the message she re-read several times was unusual.

Her finger hovered over the courier, waffling back and forth as to whether to ask Gideon why Sara’s report would be delayed. That detail more than any stood out to her as odd.

But, truth to be told, Ava did not feel like she had any right to ask, and, she mused, Gideon, who had made her distaste for Ava perfectly clear, probably wouldn’t tell her anything more than this message contained regardless.

Ava shook off her unfounded anxiety; she knew what Sara wanted her to know and that had to be enough. She resumed her run and returned home to a House Hunters marathon. Yet the concern never quite left her mind, and she slept fretfully, haunted by a nightmare of the Legends desperately fighting a never-ending army of Damien Darhks.


	4. Chapter 4

Several days passed without any word from the Waverider, no updated coordinates, no mission report.

Ava tried her best not to let her growing anxiety get the best of her. She knew there could be thousands of reasons why the Legends and their captain were too busy to reach out to her.

After all, she was just the government stiff whose job it was to monitor their movements and insult their activities. She exhaled with a tinge of regret. Ava sometimes wished she could take back some of the things she had said over the past few months.

If she were honest with herself, Ava knew that her grudging acceptance of them taking on anachronisms had slowly but steadily developed into admiration of the way in which they handled their missions. The Legends may be an extremely questionable group of individuals on paper, but as a team, they were quite effective in getting the job done, eventually.

Ava was aware that the Legends had a higher anachronism resolution rate, for example, than several of her own Bureau teams. Granted, that was due in large part to the Bureau’s policies against direct involvement or interference in unfolding historical events, policies that never stopped the Legends from wading into the midst of whatever mess they had stumbled upon or had created.

In circumstances where any Bureau team would retreat or courier away to live to fix time another day, Captain Lance and her team never gave ground and never gave up until the anachronism was fixed.

Her strategies may, at times, seem impractical and overly dangerous to Ava, but Sara was damn good at the job. Ava had come to admire her fearlessness and determination. If she also struggled to _not_ admire how attractive and intriguing she was beginning to find Sara to be, then so be it.

In her mind, it was not like the Legends to go this long without a mission. Based on her quick review of their history, if the Waverider was operational, they rarely went two or three days before jaunting off from one adventure to the next.

She was having a hard time concentrating on the mission debrief that Gary and her team were presenting because her thoughts kept returning to the all-quiet Legends’ front.

Ava suspected she had two choices in this particular circumstance to get her mind back on the ball – she could either call the Waverider and try to casually ask if everything was okay or she could go with Gary and her team on whatever mission they were describing as a distraction.

Before she could think too much further, she decided, signaling for her team to go get geared up.

As she pulled her suit coat over the various weapons she had strapped on, her courier sounded. She stepped away from the men and women preparing for the mission in the ready room and took a steadying breath before studying her wrist.

 _Finally._ A set of coordinates. December 1967. Vietnam.

Ava hastily searched for and pulled up the matching anachronism on the Bureau’s map – Level 8, unknown creature attacking American troops. Well, if there was a team who could deal with the weird and unnatural out there running around, it was the Legends.

She let out a long, slow breath, intentionally pushing her lingering anxiety out with it, then turned back to her own team. Game face on, Agent Sharpe was ready.

“Move out.”

“You should be home, Agent Sharpe.”

The unexpected voice sounding from her terminal startled her. But a wide smile formed on her face before she could completely squelch it.

“Captain Lance. To what do I owe the pleasure?” she turned from her paperwork to fully face Sara, who was casually leaning against the conference table in her office. It took Ava a second to realize she’d addressed Sara by her preferred moniker, but she knew more than most that the Legend had earned that title the hard way.

“I wanted to apologize for being out of touch for a while. That was not our agreement.” The captain appeared to be genuine in her apology.

“I wasn’t worried.” Sara raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Ava nodded slightly, as if to admit Sara was likely correct. “I assumed you had reason. Gideon let me know all was well.”

“Yes, right.” The captain peeked up at the ceiling, almost in silent thanks. “I will get the mission report from Hollywood to you as soon as possible. It may take me a bit longer to provide a readout of this Vietnam anachronism, but I’m on it,” she finished with a slightly cocky smirk.

“Very well. Good. But there’s no rush.” Sara looked perplexed. Ava was self-aware enough to realize she was probably shifting around between extremes – tough as nails Agent Sharpe and the somewhat stumbling, relived woman speaking to the object of a tiny crush.

“Right then. I’ll let you get back to it, Agent Sharpe, though I was serious before. Isn’t it well past quitting time in Star City? Isn’t there some Time Bureau policy about required down time?”

Ava couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not, as the captain’s face was frustratingly neutral.

She checked her watch, alarmed to discover that it was well past 10pm. She shook her head; as frequently occurred, Ava had simply lost track of time trying to stay on top of everything.

She was exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically. With Rip’s tribunal set for next week, she had been working her ass off, stretching herself far too thin in order to prevent anyone, especially Bennet, from having a single reason to question her loyalty and dedication to the Bureau.

The agent suspected, though, that if he was anything like she was, the Director was so busy dealing with the increasingly chaotic and dangerous anachronism missions that he hadn’t paid much attention to anything but the growing list of fallen and injured agents at the hands of Damien Darhk and his apparent allies.

Ava studied Sara, touched to see a level of concern in the captain’s eyes.

“You are correct, Miss Lance. I should have been home hours ago.”

“Then I am glad I was able to remind you.” Sara said, cheekily. “I’ll catch you on the flip side.” The Legend reached to terminate the feed.

“Wait.” Sara stilled, clearly taken aback by Ava’s request.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few beats, Ava having no idea why she didn’t want Sara to hang up and Sara having no idea why Ava had stopped her from signing off.

“Um…well…” She cleared her throat, trying to shove her agent mask in place, less than successfully.

“Tell me about the anachronism in the golden age of Hollywood.” Sara held her gaze for a few awkward seconds before offering a quick run down of their adventures with Helen of Troy. Yes, _that_ Helen.

“Was she as beautiful as the myths describe?” Ava couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“All the guys seemed to think so. I didn’t notice one way or the other, honestly.” Based on the way Sara flitted her eyes away, Ava doubted that, that was completely true, but she let it go.

“And the Darhks were involved somehow?” she inquired.

The captain shifted uncomfortably before lightly replying. “Yes. No matter where we go, those assholes are there.”

“Mm. Us too.” The words slipped out before Ava could edit herself, signaling that it was well past time for her to get off this vid call. It was late, she was tired, and she was letting herself become too comfortable in talking to Sara.

If the captain found Agent Sharpe’s brief openness about Bureau matters to be unusual, she didn’t let on, merely nodding as if Ava’s words were confirming her own suspicions about Darhk’s growing power.

“Thank you for calling, Miss Lance.” Ava voiced, finally rediscovering some air of professional distance.

“I keep my deals, Agent Sharpe.” Sara pushed up straighter, as if pulling away from whatever fledging camaraderie was there momentarily. “Gideon tells me there’s a piece of pecan pie calling my name in the galley.”

“Goodnight.”

Sara disconnected the call.

Ava sat in her office for a few minutes, appreciating the quiet stillness of the building after hours and treasuring, privately, where no one could see her or hear her thoughts, the feelings gnawing at the edge of her mind. Refusing to leave her be.

There was something about Sara. Something that kept telling her to at least consider letting her guard down. To let herself remember that she could be more than the hardass, stoic, demanding, by-the-book agent. To see the captain as the sexy, vibrant, funny, determined, smart, complex but oh so intriguing woman Ava had to admit to herself that Sara was.

It wasn’t particularly fair that Ava also knew for a fact that Lance wasn’t straight. She didn’t have to play the “is she or isn’t she” game with Sara because based on the files Rip had asked her to read when the Legends first stole the Waverider, the captain was open to relationships and moments of passion with anyone who caught her eye.

And that, Ava recognized, was the crux of the problem with this doomed, self- punishing line of private contemplation. She was in no way, shape, or form Sara Lance’s type. Ava wasn’t a vigilante or a queen or an assassin or a martial arts expert or a basic bad ass bitch. She didn’t have superpowers or any meta-human characteristics.

She was a federal agent, a ruler follower, a stick in the mud. Her button-down white shirts were firmly starched, her blue-black pant suit rarely dared to wrinkle, and her work boots were sensible.

Her life focused on efforts _not_ to garner attention. Her job relied on her ability to get in, get the job done, and get out without the headlines or anyone knowing that agents like her existed. Her parents didn’t even know what agency she worked for because her life was shielded behind a top-secret veil.

She kept her hair in a tight, uncomfortable bun and wore the bare minimum of makeup, following standard agency protocol. Ava couldn’t even remember the last time she had gone out with friends for a drink or to go to a movie. The few friends she had, had fallen along the wayside the further up in the Bureau chain she rose. Dressing in something other than her uniform and allowing her hair to flow free and loose when she left her apartment almost seemed like foreign concepts at this point.

Ava didn’t regret being married to her job; she loved her work and loved the opportunities she had to protect life as everyone else knew it on a daily basis. She didn’t need recognition, but it would be nice to be able to share some part of her life with someone besides Gary.

Of course, she was only human, and it was only in these secret, hushed moments to herself that she would allow the longing for something more to surface. Of late, that longing for connection had, had a pair of ice blue eyes, an annoying smirk, and lovely dimples…

Which is why Ava sat up abruptly in her office chair, suddenly realizing that the captain had not appeared to be 100 percent well in their just-finished conversation. The smirk was still there, but the fire in Lance’s eyes was dimmer than normal and there were dark circles under those eyes.

Sara had also never moved from leaning against the table in her office when she normally paced around, especially if she was arguing with Ava. She was a little pale, but she’d covered it well, appearing fit and healthy in her green vneck t-shirt, cute ponytail, and tight black jeans (not that Ava paid attention).

But…

Something had happened on this last mission, the Hollywood mission that Captain Lance was keeping from her. She knew that whatever it was would not be appearing in the forthcoming mission report, but it did explain why Gideon’s message had been so peculiar.

Ava shook her head, a little exasperated. Sara shading and obscuring mission details was just a reminder that there were too many barriers between them, too much Bureau and Legends bullshit to even consider pursuing a friendship with Sara, much less anything else.

As she packed up her briefcase and shut off her terminal, she dismissed her thoughts as a wasted fancy. She had too much to do to become sidetracked by a small, nagging crush. Ava understood without a doubt that at some time in the near future the Legends would once again do something reckless, careless, and less than wise. She sorta hoped that whatever it was slapped her out of whatever this was for good.

Over the next several weeks, Ava received various pings from the Legends, thankful that they were crossing off minor anachronisms left and right.

She, however, was drowning in the aftermath of Rip’s trial. The Bureau seemed to be falling apart around her.

Bennet had become even more demanding, more tyrannical. He had almost seemed entertained when Rip was found guilty and sentenced to time in jail, but he refused to listen to any warnings that even remotely suggested that Hunter’s claims of a malicious intelligence intentionally destroying the timeline and threatening human history to some vile end might be accurate.

He had ordered everyone, even Ava and Shepard, into the field, pushing them to solve the ever-expanding map of hazardous anomalies at an inhumane pace. When a team would return, regardless of how high the level of the anachronism they had just faced or how long the mission had taken, Bennet would begin to pester her to send them back into the fray within 24 hours.

She and Shepard had even gone to Liz Tracey with their concerns about the treacherous working conditions that the field teams were enduring, but there was nothing any of them could do about it. Without Rip and with Bennet refusing to listen to reason, her job had become increasingly unbearable.

Agent Sharpe was strong and passionate about her work, but she was beginning to falter physically. The situation was not sustainable for anyone.

Ava, Gary, and the rest of her team were returning from their fifth mission in seven days when she received a message other than coordinates or an attached mission report.

“Gideon: Captain Lance asked me to inform you that she is attending to personal business in Central City over the next few days and will be unavailable. She has left the Waverider in the command of Miss Jiwe should the Time Bureau need assistance.”

Before she could stop and think in her admittedly less than tip top shape mental state, she typed out a quick response:

“Miss Lance, please be careful. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I have friends in Central City.”

“Gideon: Captain Lance said, and I quote, “Fuck off, Sharpe. It’s just a damn wedding. See you on the other side.”

Ava laughed despite herself, drawing scrutiny from her companions. She promptly glared at them and strolled off to her office to begin to review the hundreds of mission reports stacked on her desk and to start writing a few of her own.

Only a few days later, Ava was in the midst of a sword fight against a horde of Huns in 453 when her courier sounded again with coordinates (Central City, 2017) and a message.

“Gideon: Miss Jiwe would like me to inform you that the Legends are headed to Central City to provide mission support to Supergirl, the Arrow, the Flash, and various other masked vigilantes who are defending Star Labs against a hostile force. Agent Sharpe, though Miss Jiwe did not mention this, it would be beneficial for you to arrange a Bureau team to head to Central City as well. Based on my knowledge of the situation, it is doubtful they will be able to contain the events away from the public eye.”

The last sentence certainly got Ava’s attention. Gideon was asking for her to help, even if the Legends had not done so. Though it was obvious the A.I. did not wish for her or the Bureau to become directly involved in whatever events were occurring, she did believe Ava could be of some service in terms of minimizing the exposure to the citizens of Central City.

Unfortunately, Agent Sharpe had her hands completely full, as she ducked the incoming sword of another horseman. Her team had been caught unprepared while trying to escape Attila’s stronghold after ensuring that he was discovered dead beside his very new, very young wife, as history dictated.

Somehow, previous to their arrival, Attila had avoided his pre-destined date with death and had been in the midst of planning yet another invasion of a nearby Roman province. The Bureau agents had no choice but to intervene to keep the timeline stable. Ava believed they had gotten away with poisoning him in a way that yielded a death as close to the history books as they could get.

However, one of her agents (surprisingly _not_ Gary this time) had dropped his memory flasher, and in their attempts to retrieve it, the castle guard had noticed that they did not belong. Ava’s on the fly plan required them to lure the guards into a pursuit away from the walls, subdue the guards, flash their memories, and return to the Bureau. She had not expected that the guards had already called in reinforcements, which is why she found herself fighting for her life.

This was really not the time to be worrying about the Legends and Superfriends, but Ava couldn’t help but be a little anxious. For Gideon to take the initiative to ask for Ava to send a team, even if not for Agent Sharpe personally, suggested that things were not going well in Central City.

As she knocked out the nearest hun soldier with a baton strike to his helmeted head, she scanned the clearing to determine their nearest route of egress. A few agents were still fighting, but they needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. She hoped the subtle costumes had been enough to thwart any historical conspiracies regarding the nature of Attila the Hun’s death; regardless he was still dead “on time” and still unable to conquer the rest of the known world.

She signaled to her team that she was opening the portal, and they needed to retreat immediately. Within seconds, she was standing in the Bureau ready room, checking herself for major injury.

When she found none, she turned to her team and caught them off guard by addressing them before they dispersed.

“Team, you did well out there. We had more of a fight than we bargained for, but we came through in one piece. History will thank us.”

She paused, sorting through what she could share with them and not get everyone fired immediately. Ava paced back and forth a bit, but none of the team moved, knowing her well enough to know that she had something important to say.

“I am exhausted. We have pushed ourselves relentlessly this week, and we all feel it. I have aches and pains I cannot even begin to describe,” She shared a simple smile. The men and women laughed in agreement.

“If you would like to head home immediately and get some rest before reporting bright and early tomorrow, please know that you can do so with my complete support and blessing. However…” And this is where things could get very tricky for her, so she lowered her voice and felt her entire body tense.

“…I will not be going home this evening.”

Several of them were obviously intrigued with where she was headed. This line of discussion was completely out of character for Agent Sharpe, and they all knew it.

Ava turned away and stepped to the armory wall, acting as if she was restocking her weapons from their completed mission, but she continued to speak, now resolute in her choice.

“I’ve received a tip that history-altering events are occurring at this moment, in the present in Central City. While we have not been tasked as a Bureau team to participate in this matter, I believe that we can be of assistance.”

She saw Gary try to cover an excited smile from the corner of her eye. Ava recognized that he had to suspect whose backup she was asking them to be. Gary was developing too soft of a heart for the Legends, but who was _she_ to blame him.

Ava pushed gently past him to the First Aid station and began to clean and treat a small nick on her arm; her back remained turned to her team.

“Because this is not a sanctioned mission, none of what I am saying and nothing that occurs in relation to this matter will be logged or acknowledged ever again. Anyone involved is subject to protocol 77 (a voluntary memory wipe).”

She moved to the disposal bin to discard the rest of her dirty, worn garments, her voice still carrying in the room, leaving her in the plain t-shirt and shorts she wore under her clothing on all reconnaissance missions (just in case). “As for me, I am going to take a very quick shower to clean off the worst of the grime, change into a fresh uniform, and be back in this ready room in twenty minutes to portal to Central City.”

As Ava strode out of the room toward the Bureau showers, she called over her shoulder, “Team dismissed.”

Twenty minutes later, clean and -- based on appearance alone -- ready for an average day at the office in her blue-black pantsuit and a high, tight hair bun, Agent Sharpe coolly strolled back into the ready room.

Greeting her was her entire team of agents, three women, four men, already armed and Sears model dangerous.

She nodded once in acknowledgement and without a word, opened a portal into the park nearest to Star Labs. Ava hoped that Gideon would provide her with any further location information as necessary, as the AI sent a short note of thanks once Ava confirmed that she personally was leading a go team to help contain the situation.


	5. Chapter 5

The portal closed behind them, but they stood in the park stock still and silent for at least a minute, watching in awe without speaking.

“Are those…Nazis?” Gary whispered.

 _Well_ , Ava thought, _if you had to involve almost every known superhero in the multiverse, it made sense that Nazis…make that Nazis with very large, very modern guns…could be the enemy._

Row after row of gas mask and heavy armor wearing jackboot soldiers marched through the area, shooting anyone that moved. Innocent people were fleeing the scene only to be shot in the back or targeted with grenades. All was chaos and carnage.

What shook Ava out of her stunned reverie was the Waverider appearing above them and firing on the few people who had managed to find shelter under a park bridge.

Before she could even begin to mentally reconcile that image, a second Waverider shimmered into place, targeting the first and chasing the enemy time ship away.

As the Waveriders disappeared, Agent Sharpe snapped into action. “Team, our job is support and support **only** right now. Avoid punching Nazis if possible, though I understand the temptation. Do not engage. If you are attacked, defend yourself mercilessly, but do not forget our mission.”

“Our responsibility is to the citizens caught in the crossfire of this fight. Get as many people out of harm’s way as possible and do so with minimal contact with any so-called hero. When hostilities have ceased, we will need to go block by block, building by building in this area to restore order as necessary. Sound off every thirty minutes. Now go.”

The agents scattered, swiftly and efficiently, remaining as unobtrusive as possible. In this environment, it was fairly easy for no one to notice them as everyone else was either fleeing or fighting.

She turned to Gary, her partner for the mission. He was literally bouncing with excitement, eyes wide, like a child. “Gary.” He ignored her completely, mouth gaping as flying superheroes and gun battles surrounded them. “Gary!” At her yell, he finally registered that she was glaring at him.

“Oh, sorry,” he muttered pushing up his glasses nervously.

“Move out.” Gary was not an especially stealthy agent, so she had to keep pulling him into cover as people who would likely recognize them fought nearby. At one point, though, he grabbed her and pulled her down behind a dumpster.

She had spent one second too long distracted seeing Sara - several hundred feet away - fight using a gun instead of her bo staff. The mix of martial arts and brutal firepower was a poem waiting to be written.

Ava scowled at him, but Gary was right. If there would be anyone who would see them at the worst possible time, it would be the Legend’s Captain. She’d prefer to avoid that.

She really, really didn’t want Sara to know she was here in Central City. Gideon had asked for backup, but it was Ava’s choice for that backup to be her. She didn’t want to explain that choice to Sara, and she doubted Gideon planned to volunteer the information that she’d reached out to the agent in the first place. Thus, stealth was the word of the day.

She and Gary had rescued and hidden approximately three dozen people by Ava’s count, providing first aid as necessary, when the sky above them flashed, temporarily blinding them. As she recovered her senses, she realized that the remaining Nazi soldiers had laid down their weapons. It was over, which meant Agent Sharpe’s job had begun in earnest.

Ava signaled the rest of her team to begin their containment strategies, as Gary turned toward the group of people with them with his memory flash readied. Once he had activated the flash, Ava professionally explained to the disoriented group that there had been a minor gas leak in the park, causing some small explosions and some physical damage to the area, but she reassured them that all was well and they could return to their daily activities.

An hour later, she and Gary completed their portion of the sweep and headed back toward the designated rally point.

“Agent Sharpe.”

They both froze in place. _It could be worse_ , she thought. _It could have been Sara_.

“Mr. Heywood,” she said briskly as she turned to him. Gary shuffled off to the side, likely trying to protect himself from whatever fireworks he thought he was about to witness.

Nate eyeballed her for several beats, closed face giving no hint as to what he was thinking.

“Amaya did not request backup,” he said without emotion.

Ava figured she had two ways of playing this – the superior asshole agent way or the honest way.

“No, she didn’t. However, I determined that the Bureau would be well suited to offer support in containing the aftermath of this particular mission.”

Nate grinned and nodded, reaching out a hand to her. She met his and they shook on a job well done. Ava turned to leave again with Gary, but Nate cleared his throat as if to speak.

She could see then that something was bothering him. “Mr. Heywood?”

He shook his head, his eyes tearing up. “Mr. Heywood, what’s wrong? What happened?” She instinctively moved closer to him, concerned.

Nate stared at the ground for so long that Ava was convinced he had forgotten she was there. Her anxiety was spiking, afraid that something had happened to Sara.

“Martin,” he paused, collecting himself. “Professor Stein was seriously injured in action; he died yesterday.” Her shocked intake of breath did not go unnoticed. “None of us are handling it very well.”

Ava was speechless and truly at a loss. Socially clumsy under the best of circumstances, she had no idea what to say in response that wouldn’t sound cold and unfeeling.

They both examined the ground for a few seconds, wordlessly shifting their feet.

She finally focused on him and reached a tentative hand out onto his shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Apparently, she’d had way too much practice expressing her condolences of late.

He seemed taken aback by her soft but genuine words. “Thank you, Agent Sharpe. I’ll be sure to pass that on to the captain—”

“Actually,” she interrupted abruptly, “I’d rather you keep this entire conversation between us. As a matter of fact, please just forget you saw me here.”

Gary stepped up beside her, memory flash at the ready, but she pushed his arm down slowly before he could flash Nate.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Gary,” she said without taking her eyes away from Nate’s. “Do you, Mr. Heywood?” She quirked an eyebrow.

He blinked, as if truly seeing the woman behind the suit for the first time. “No, that isn’t necessary.” He smiled briefly. “I never saw your team or you, protecting bystanders in the middle of an explosive firefight with no regard for your own safety.” He smirked almost as well as his captain. “Your secret is safe with me, Agent.” Nate chuckled quietly as he turned and casually strutted away from them.

Ava shook her head, partially in dismay that they had been seen and partially in disbelief that Heywood was letting this drop. Only time would tell if she could trust him.

She turned and moved in the opposite direction, ready to be done for the day. Gary followed along faithfully, but he kept his opinions to himself for once.

The back to back missions were finally catching up to her, and she knew her presence was required at an early morning budget meeting with Bennet and the Bureau's Board of Directors. A groan escaped her mouth at that thought, startling Gary. But she continued on without offering him an explanation. He had worked with her enough to know that she would talk only if and when she wanted to do so, so he didn’t inquire what was on her mind.

As they walked, Ava remembered that she still had to flash the memory of her entire team upon their return, something she was loathe to do, but they all understood that to keep their jobs, no one could ever know they had participated in an unsanctioned op.

The only question in Ava’s mind was whether she was going to flash her own memory or not. Given every other code violation she’d led and encouraged this evening, "accidentally" forgetting to flash herself seemed like a relatively minor infraction. Plus, she mused, it would be in the best interest of the Bureau that she retained her knowledge in case Nate Heywood did not keep their interaction to himself.

When they finally reached the rally point, the rest of her agents were waiting, only slightly worse for wear. They trudged back through the portal, and as they instinctively turned to her, she flashed them.

“Well done, team. Those Huns never knew what hit them. Head home, get cleaned up, and grab some rest. Why don’t you all come in an hour or two late tomorrow? I’ll be in budget meetings all morning, and no one will be expecting your reports until early afternoon at the earliest.”

She smiled encouragingly at them and headed to her office. Ava heard her team slowly recovering behind her, as they began to recognize they had been dismissed from their successful Attila mission.

She locked her office door out of habit, shut everything off, packed up her briefcase, and portalled directly into her living room, where she promptly collapsed on her couch, fully dressed.

The next day was brutal.

Bennet was pushing to wrap up their fiscal planning for 2018-2019 before the holidays, but Ava’s fatigued brain simply could not decipher the numbers in front of her. She’d pushed herself too hard, and she was paying for it.

“Agent Sharpe, do you have anything to add to the discussion? Or is there something more important on your mind than the continued funding of your employer?”

The other talking heads in the room inspected her with judgement and annoyance. None of the suits around the conference table had any inkling of what her life had been like the past while.

None of them knew the physical and emotional pain she and her agents were living with.

None of them had watched their colleagues be cut down in front of them like dogs or had seen an agent choke on their own blood as a madman stood over them laughing.

None of them rose to speak at agents’ funerals or called husbands to tell them their wives would never be coming home.

These government bureaucrats cared only for bottom line, not seeing, apparently, that, that bottom line was the people who put themselves and their lives at risk to protect fragile human knowledge.

They had the nerve to judge her, an agent who had worked over 150 hours in the completion of seven (official) missions in the last nine days with no day off. She’d averaged less than 3 hours of sleep on the few evenings she did make it home. And all they saw was a pretty face.

The number of men in the meeting who regularly hit on Ava or made lewd comments to her in passing was not small. She may have made it to the board room through her hard work, dedication, and skill, but they would never see her or treat her as an equal.

In the past, she would have taken a cleansing breath, plastered on a fake grin, and launched into a detailed but professional description of how and why the budget Bennet had presented undervalued the most essential element of their agency -- the agents in their charge.

Today, though, she did not have it in her to play this game. Instead, she closed her portfolio, rolled back from the table, and stood up, placing her hands behind her back.

“Gentlemen, the most important asset this agency has is its agents, many of whom have been working triple time without complaint for weeks. I have attended more than a hundred funerals in the same time frame. Until we can see these men and women as valuable commodities and not pawns who you act like deserve the least amount of financial, emotional, or mental support we can give them, this agency is not fulfilling its mission. I don’t particularly care how many new contracts we are rewarding for purely political reasons or how much we are spending to renovate this executive level for the third time in three years. You asked for my opinion?” she bore into Bennet’s eyes.

“My opinion is that without the proper care and respect for its agents, this agency will not survive until the end of fiscal year, regardless of this fun monopoly game you are playing with the taxpayer’s money. The threat we face is that significant and the likelihood that most of your agents will be dead in the short term is that great unless something changes in the conditions on the ground.”

She frowned at the men around the room. “I won’t sit here and watch you destroy the agency I love. You are of course, welcome to discuss this further with either Agent Shepard, who is currently on his tenth assignment in as many days, or HR Director Tracey who has logged more than 500 violations of federal employment laws in the past week alone.”

Ava picked up her materials, spun on her heel, and strode out the door without a single backwards glance. If they were going to fire her, so be it. She had stood up for her agents, something the Director and the Board had steadfastly refused to do.

They had thrown Rip in prison, yet their own negligence, political bullshit, and obsession with making things appear perfect on paper while the timeline was breaking apart and their agents were dying was just as bad if not worse. Rip’s actions had resulted in the death of five teams.

Every single Time Bureau agent, regardless of rank or years of experience had been put in front of a firing squad of rushed, imperfectly planned missions, a glaring lack of any rest and proper nutrition, inadequate psychological support, and inhumane working hours without a single thought or care by the men in the room…all to save face with other government agencies. More men and women had died under their watch in recent weeks than the previous two years of Bureau fatalities combined, including Director Hunter’s last mission.

Agent Sharpe was tired of being the only one in the room who gave a damn about any of the human toll behind the colorful pie charts and fancy prezi presentations. The Bureau’s agents deserved more than to be someone’s cog in a grinding government wheel designed only to protect wealthy, connected, white men. She was willing to die on this hill and to sacrifice everything she’d worked toward for over a decade because it was the right stand to make.

For once in her government career, she didn’t go back to her office after a meeting. She didn’t check in with Gary to see what she had missed.

Instead, she walked out of the building into a light rain shower, thinking about the obituary that had appeared in today’s paper. She wondered through downtown Star City aimlessly, ignoring the incessant chirping of her courier followed by the recurring ringing of her phone.

Ava didn’t feel the water dripping off her face. She didn’t see the baffled views directed her way by people scurrying to remain dry under jostling umbrellas. She simply walked, mind tumbling, raging, searching, arguing…feeling.

The weeks of repressed anger, anxiety, depression, fear, helplessness spun within her. Her life, for once, was completely out of her control. She’d ceded the last ounce of control when she stood for the truth. And that was okay somehow.

As Ava strolled on, her thoughts quietened to a single, somber focus.

Somewhere in Central City in the next day or two, a man, beloved by a wife, a daughter, a partner, a team, an incredible group of friends, former students, and numerous other loved ones would be buried.

Based on the initial intelligence reports Ava had accessed on her terminal in the early morning hours before the budget meeting, a man - whose sacrifice would only be known by a handful of people - had given his life, had forfeited a dream of spending the last years of his life encircled by love while watching his grandson grow up, so that others may live, so that the world as everyone knew it could continue.

But, unlike what Ava expected the lonely, barren landscape of an Agent Sharpe funeral would be, the many mourners for Martin Stein would recall his love, his warmth, his intelligence, his eccentricities.

Yes, his death had been heroic, but his life was one that was fully lived. He had not hidden behind his marriage, his devotion to science, his career when the opportunity came to be something more, but he had also not been willing to sacrifice having a normal life for the opportunity to be a hero.

He, unlike Rip, unlike Ava herself, had realized that while he loved his work, his relationships were what made him a great man. Stein had eventually recognized that life meant nothing if it was not actually lived.

Agent Sharpe was not living. She was existing. She was doing whatever it took to make it from one day to the next, but what kind of life was that? Every rule followed, every protocol established, every report filed early, every single thing in its proper place. For what?

For a love-hate acquaintanceship with Gary? For a mentor whose cold, unfeeling calculus resulted in needless deaths? For a strained, distant relationship with her parents? For a sterile, empty, though well-appointed apartment?

It had taken the Bureau coming apart at the seams for her to realize the reality of her existence, but now that she could see it, there was no going back.

Ava was damn good at her job, excellent at it, in fact, but no one cared. To her superiors, she was a mere woman with long legs and nice tits. To her coworkers, she was a relentlessly driven hardass.

Yes, Agent Sharpe was a talented Assistant Director, a strong asset to the Bureau. But she was more machine, a machine pushed to the very end of its limits, than a woman at this point.

She needed a break, desperately, but she knew that none was forthcoming. Ava had chosen this life, had carefully designed and controlled every element intent on perfection and advancement, not enjoyment, and it was up to her – and only her – to figure out how to change things, if that was even possible.

Ava sat on a nearby park bench, letting the rain wash over her. Tilting her head to the sky, she allowed the drops of rain to pelt against her face; tears mixed in. Her shoulders began to tremble, and a wide-mouthed sob escaped before she rapidly dropped her head into her hands.

Everything within her fractured, free, pushing to be free.

She remained on the bench long after she was thoroughly soaked through, starched shirt collar floppy and clinging to her neck.

Ava pulled out her phone, and without even having to peer at the number she dialed, she contacted the Bureau switchboard.

“Transfer me to Liz Tracey’s office.”

When the call connected, and she heard Liz’s no-nonsense voice, Ava’s lip trembled a bit, but she pushed on. She was taking a personal day come hell or high water, and she didn’t care what anyone had to say about it.

At this point, she probably had more than two years’ worth of personal and sick days stored up, and for once in her damn life, she was putting herself first for a few hours.

“Liz.”

“Jesus Christ, Sharpe. Where the hell have you been?!” Tracey’s loud exclamation forced Ava to pull the phone away from her ear.

She muttered softly, “Out. I’ve been out of the office.”

“No shit. The whole agency is up in arms, and no one can get ahold of you.” Ava’s eyebrows rose a bit. Who else other than Bennet or Gary would care that she’d been gone for a few hours?

She couldn’t help but be sarcastic. “I’m sure you all managed.”

But Tracey was well past messing around. “That’s not the point, Sharpe. Some of us actually give a damn about the people we work with…Now get your ass back in here.”

“No, Liz. I’m taking the rest of the day off. I am not fit to be in the field right now, and we both know that Bennet will send my team out the minute I walk through the doors, just like he has every day for the past month…unless he’s already fired me. In that case, I’ll still be in tomorrow first thing to clear out my desk.” Her voice was clear and firm.

Ava had nothing to be ashamed of, and she was not going to let Liz or anyone else cajole her into changing her mind. She needed down time.

Tracey harrumphed. “Sharpe, you are such an idiot sometimes. You aren’t fired, but you do need to get your ass back in here…but maybe, yes, wait until tomorrow. Bennet has placed a 72-hour moratorium on all missions. Every field agent has been sent home for the duration.”

“What?” Ava choked out, incredulous.

“Apparently when an Assistant Director tells off the Director and Bureau board and goes AWOL in the middle of the work day, it gets some attention,” she said wryly.

They were both silent for a few seconds.

“Ava…go home. Get some rest.” Tracey paused again. “You did good work today, Agent.” Her voice was unusually gentle.

Ava heard the click at the other end of the line before she could formulate a response.

She pulled the phone away from her cheek and stared at it in disbelief for a few seconds before hurriedly placing it back into her drenched pants pocket.

And then she smiled, fully, openly, wholly, muscles stretching with atypical use. Ava reached up, rain dripping from her fingers, and pulled out the pins holding her bun in place. Her damp hair fell around her neck and shoulders, immediately sticking to her skin, but she didn’t care. A rich, bubbling laugh danced out of her mouth.

She had a late afternoon to herself for the first time in forever, and she was going to enjoy it, no matter the doubtful, side eye glances she was receiving from passersbys.

Ava was alive. _Fucking alive_. She was not going to let herself forget that, come what may. If nothing else had come from the tragic death of those agents, she owed it to them and to Martin Stein to never take a single second of living for granted again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll note familiar discussions in this chapter, but I needed to include the exchanges for story purposes. LoT characters and dialogue do not belong to me. No copyright infringement intended.

Bright but intentionally _not_ early the next day, Ava entered the glass doors and rode the elevator to her floor. The last time she had come into work at 9am was probably before most of the agents under her purview had even entered college.

She had purposefully woken with a 7:30 alarm, getting a full nine hours of sleep the night before. If she hadn’t been fired and apparently wasn’t going to lose her job for now, then she was going to take care of herself and get some damn sleep.

When she’d gotten home after her prolonged, messy, but beautiful walk in the rain, she’d taken an exorbitant bubble bath to warm herself up and then had changed into the comfiest, rattiest, softest pajamas she owned (admittedly after a bit of digging through more sensible choices to find them).

She’d made herself an actual non-microwave-cooked meal with the meager ingredients still fresh in her kitchen, resolving to go grocery shopping for herself and her health the next day.

And then Ava had picked up the true crime novel and gone to bed to read, leaving her computer closed and off, silent on her coffee table.

If she’d fantasized about Sara Lance in that White Canary outfit and released some long held sexual tension as well before she finally slept, she wasn’t telling.

This was the first morning in ages that she felt like herself again. It was amazing what one night of self care could do for a woman. She actually smiled at the first member of her team she passed, an agent who’d been on the job for two years but who did a double take when he saw the smile and her intentionally more relaxed appearance.

As Assistant Director, she had some leeway with her personal appearance and did not have to go by the letter of the policy once she reached a certain administrative level. Another “rule for thee but not for me” double-standard she’d begun to note throughout the Bureau organization.

Today, however, was the first time since she’d graduated the Bureau academy five years previous that Ava Sharpe wore her hair down to the office.

Based on the numerous reactions she was observing, her doing so was a much larger deal than she could have anticipated. It was either the hair or the smiling at people or the top button of her starched shirt resting open.

As yet another agent walked into a wall as she passed, she couldn’t help but be confusingly amused that anyone would even notice or react to the difference.

As soon as she reached her office, she sent a message for Gary to meet her to catch her up on what she had missed the day before.

A few minutes later, he swung into the office full speed, already launching into a rambling rundown of a day’s worth of mission reviews, office gossip, and phone messages when he abruptly stopped talking mid sentence.

Ava had been organizing the paperwork on her desk and checked to see why he stopped his report. He was staring at her with a mixture of awe, joy, confusion, and creepiness. She titled her head slightly in inquiry. “What is it Gary?”

“You…your hair…it’s so…wow,” he whispered reverently.

“Gary…” she said with a warning, rolling her eyes.

“But ma’am…” He walked toward her as if in a trance, reaching out to touch her hair without seemingly being aware of what he was doing.

“Gary!” He blinked a few times and quickly dropped his outstretched hand. She glared at him. “Do we have to have the conversation about personal space again?”

“Maybe,” he quietly whined.

She pointed back to the front of her desk, and he sullenly moved away from her, pouting noticeably.

“Please continue.” He sighed loudly and exaggeratedly but resumed his morning report without further delay or outlandish reaction.

As he reached the conclusion of his standard presentation, he paused again. She studied him, one eyebrow slowly rising.

“Agent Sharpe, all of the field agents heard about what you said to Director Bennet and the board, ma’am.” She crossed her hands on her desk, waiting, thumb fidgeting, as Gary was obviously struggling to get his words out.

“Our entire go team submitted our resignations after you left the office yesterday,” he rushed through in one breath.

“What?!” She jumped up to rush toward Liz’s office, hoping to put a freeze on the paperwork. No wonder her phone had been blowing up.

“No…Wait! Agent Sharpe!” She paused before opening the door and turned back to him.

“In total, 248 field agents submitted their resignations.” Ava gradually sank into the nearest chair.

“What?” she said breathless, stunned.

“248 field agents, Assistant Director Shepard, 150 troopers…”

“…150? That’s his entire unit…”

“45 bunker staff, half of the intelligence pod, 21 technicians…”

“Jesus!” she murmured.

“…and every HR agent, everyone in that office except for Assistant Director Tracey resigned yesterday.” He concluded his list with great flourish, as if expecting applause.

Ava opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Gary grinned at her like a certifiable idiot.

“You…you are saying more than 500 people tendered their resignations from the Time Bureau yesterday. All in one day?”

“Yes,” he nodded sagely. “Almost half of the agency quit, and more were waiting outside of AD Tracey’s office when Bennet closed the office and sent everyone home, issuing a stop order on everyone’s resignations”

“Holy shit” she squeaked out and immediately reddened.

“Yes, ma’am. It was _awesome_!” He started giggling.

“Gary, this isn’t funny!” she remanded him.

He countered, “Hell, yes, it is, ma’am.”

She paused a beat, letting it all rush over her. “What the hell happened?”

“You happened, Agent Sharpe…you stood up for us. Rumor has it you erupted and threw your chair at those suits while yelling about how awful things have been for everyone since Rip...” He left the thought unfinished. “…before storming out and quitting.”

She laughed softly at the preposterous story but admonished him gently. “Gary, _we_ are suits.”

“No, they are suits. We are fashionable Men’s Wearhouse models with time couriers, badges, and guns.” She chuckled in spite of herself. He sat down in the chair next to hers.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, her mind sorting pieces, both delighted and horrified at this information. All she had wanted was for the Board to increase pay and benefits in the next budget and for Bennet to protect her field agents, allowing them adequate R&R to be able to function as people, much less as elite agents.

After another moment or two of silence, Gary couldn’t help himself. “So, you quit in a blaze of glory because of how we were being treated?”

She sighed, exasperated. “Gary, I didn’t quit,” though it crossed her mind that by telling them she refused to watch what Bennet was letting happen may have sounded like she was. “I didn’t even raise my voice. Or do any kind of storming anywhere.”

“Oh,” he said, almost disappointed.

“I did tell them that the budget is bullshit and that our best assets as a Bureau are all of you. I warned that without healthy, supported, well-paid, well-rested agents in this fight, the Bureau would crumble…” her voice trailed off.

“…and?”

“What makes you think there’s an ‘and’?”

“You walked straight out of the building, Agent Sharpe. You didn’t answer your courier or calls, and you disappeared for the rest of the day.” He leaned forward toward her, clearly concerned.

“I think you can probably call me Ava right now, Gary.” The agent sat back, stunned, but delighted.

“So what else happened, A-Ava?” Gary stuttered, uncomfortable with using her name.

She cleared her throat and wet her lips a little. Ava guessed that this portion of her speech was what had caused the issues. “And I said I would not sit here and let them destroy the agency I love while they play monopoly with taxpayer money and good men and women die for their egos.”

“Oooh, nice.” He smirked.

She sighed and threw up her hands. “Yeah, well. I was exhausted and angry. I’d only been back from our last mission for four hours, and I was listening to them argue about color swatches for the executive washroom when they’d just shot down a 1% pay increase across the board and death benefits for every agent’s family as ‘exorbitant expenses.’”

“From what I heard,” They both jumped at the new voice entering the conversation, “you set their asses on fire while maintaining your cool and then walked out leaving them with their pants around their ankles after a thorough spanking.” Liz Tracey leaned against the door frame, grinning.

“AD Tracey.” Gary scrambled to his feet and quickly exited Ava’s space.

The two women held a gaze, measuring the other for a moment, before Tracey moved to sit in the chair Gary had vacated.

“Hell of a day yesterday, Sharpe.” She said sardonically.

Ava winced. Apparently, her actions in defense of her unit had rained hell on earth down on Tracey’s HR department. “I was way out of line with those men, Tracey. I fully expected to get fired for how I acted and what I said. Bennet would have been justified.”

Liz pursed her lips. “Mm…unfortunately, Director Bennet has not chosen his battles wisely in recent years. He has been devoted to keeping the wrong people happy. Meanwhile, you may not be the friendliest woman I’ve ever met,” Ava glared at her. “…but your agents know that your loyalty to them is unwavering. You never stop fighting for them, Sharpe, and they see that. Especially now, after Director Hunter, after the horrible losses we have suffered, they need someone who advocates for them and no one has done that…except you.” Tracey gazed at her, meaningfully.

Ava didn’t respond, didn’t know how to respond. She stared at the ceiling, unfamiliar feelings of gratitude and a sense of belonging spreading in her chest.

“The Bureau is in chaos, Ava. We’ve lost more agents than we can afford to lose chasing this father-daughter duo…I call them the power twins of death. Bennet is just as obsessed as Hunter, but his obsession is with maintaining the illusion that all is well. He’s been punishing the entire agency for the realities on the ground.”

Ava nodded in agreement. The male ego sometimes made decisions that wrecked the lives of thousands of people without remorse. She closed her eyes in frustration.

Tracey turned in the chair toward her, addressing her more directly. “From what I can see, we are in a losing battle.” Ava tensed, hating to hear the truth from the HR Director’s mouth. “You were right to push the line and remind them that this agency does not exist without its agents. More of us will likely die while we try to fix this mess, yes, but we shouldn’t just be throwing our colleagues into a wood chipper without a care. Everyone needs rest and a workable mission schedule to increase the still small chance they might survive…You forced his hand, Agent Sharpe.”

Ava opened one eye, angled at Tracey, and muttered, “Something which I am _sure_ he appreciates,” mirth edging her voice.

Tracey laughed and shook her head. “No, he isn’t happy with you right now, but given that more than half of his agency quit in one day, he needs you in order to hold onto his position and his Bureau, whether he is happy about that or not.” Ava noted some glee in the woman’s voice.

The HR Director stood, dusting out the wrinkles in her skirt. “Welcome back, Agent Sharpe.” She reached down and squeezed Ava’s shoulder before breezing out of the office. “Your hair is absolutely divine, by the way,” she called back. Her fading laughter echoed down Ava’s hall.

She had 24 hours remaining in the Bureau’s 72 moratorium on operational missions. Ava had sent Gary home yesterday after her conversation with Liz. There was no reason for him to be there if the rest of their team was home on leave.

The constellation of offices near hers were silent and dark, occupants taking earned and deserved time off.

Ava had left the office the day before at 5pm, startled to rediscover that it was supposed to be light outside when people who worked normal schedules left their jobs. Once again she had slept “late” and arrived at 9am and planned to do the same thing tomorrow.

She had a fridge full of groceries she thought she might get to use instead of having to toss everything every two weeks or so, as had been her practice of late. She’d even had a chance to finish her book and took her sweet time in bed the night before searching through the myriad options from which she could choose for her next.

The stack of folders on her office were sorted and ready for filing. She’d caught up in her paperwork and was finalizing her own notes regarding the Attila the Hun mission when her courier sounded, loud in the stillness.

Without seeing it she knew it had to be from Gideon as the Bureau was operating under strict orders for radio silence, unless an absolute emergency, though Tracey and Shepard kept sending her funny commentary about Bennet’s hasty departure for D.C. headquarters.

The Director was taking the opportunity afforded by the mostly empty building to clear out his office at the regional headquarters to move to the big leagues in Washington. The three ADs agreed that he wanted distance between himself and the agents who saw through his bullshit and who had orchestrated a walk out, but truth be told, his job was more focused on the political aspects of the Bureau.

Bennet being near the political center of the government and leaving the three of them to run the daily operations made sense from an organizational standpoint, but the timing was certainly amusing.

If nothing else, she appreciated that his departure meant she soon wouldn’t have to worry about him spending his days finding new ways to needle her as revenge for the events of the week.

His absence also seemed to loosen up the other ADs, who were more open and good-humored with each other and with her. That could also be the result of her own intentional relaxation of demeanor, but she liked the changes, even if things were a bit weird and tentative in her exchanges with her coworkers.

She signed her name and slapped the last folder closed. Officially caught up on work and mentally shutting down the urge to start working and planning weeks ahead, she took the time to rock back in her chair to give the Legend’s message attention.

Ava was surprised to see updated coordinates from the Waverider, though she probably should not have been. Knowing what little she knew about Sara and the rest of the Legends, beating someone up was one way to make them feel better or feel…something.

As master of deflecting and ignoring emotions, especially hard emotions, she could relate.

She made a mental note of where and when they were – 1000 A.D. in very early Vinland. The flickering level of the anachronism readout on her map was concerning, but she made a conscious decision to trust them and let them address the issue.

Ava wanted to reach out soon and express her sympathies to Captain Lance about Stein, but she didn’t think Sara would appreciate the sentiment coming from her or she might believe that Ava had an ulterior motive. That knowledge hurt, but it was her own fault. One day she hoped she’d have a chance to turn the tide, but that day was not today.

She ducked, narrowly avoiding a downward strike from the Bureau’s sparring AI, and used her momentum to spin into a high kick to the bot’s stomach. Sweat poured from her face, but Ava was having the most fun she’d had in months. She had let her workouts in the dojo slide since Rip’s arrest.

One of the things she had decided in her wet sojourn through the park was that her physical health had to be a priority. No matter how stressed out she was, she owed it to her team to be in peak form; it was a win-win because regular, intense sparring allowed her to fight harder and longer for the Bureau, increasing her chances of survival as a side bonus, but it also let her relieve some of the pressure in a way that wasn’t yelling at some trainee.

She had come to the gym straightaway after being turned away from Rip’s containment cell earlier, a petty parting gift from Bennet. Apparently, Rip was now only allowed visitation from his legal counsel and the medical team if necessary. It was a shitty decision that underscored her deteriorating opinion of the Director. For the sake of the Bureau, she hoped he would get his head out of his ass sooner rather than later.

Ava made sure that the guards would at least tell Hunter she had stopped by. They also let slip, she suspected intentionally, that they had told the former Director all about the employee walk out her actions had caused. She hoped he was proud of her and that he knew she was doing what she could to protect the organization he had built.

She realized that thoughts were becoming a distraction when the bot got a solid punch in past her defenses to her left side, which stung like a mother. She’d have a hell of a bruise there. Her breath hitched a bit, and she buckled down. The sparring program was set at its highest level, and if she weren’t careful, she could get hurt. With only a skeleton staff in the building, getting injured in a sparring match with a computer program would be carelessly stupid.

Ava had narrowly avoided a follow-up roundhouse kick aimed at her chin when her courier alarm alerted. She frowned but didn’t dare turn to the noise in order to prevent a broken nose. Her session had only a few seconds left, and she expected the bot to come after her in earnest. She wasn’t disappointed, and when the timer expired, Ava grinned with her bloodied lip and used her battered, wrapped fingers to wipe off the sweat dripping into her eyes. Yeah, she’d missed this.

She wanted to hurry over to her bag and the courier, but Ava would regret it if she did not fully stretch and cool down. Given how long it had been since she’d last engaged in such an intense session, she’d be sore as hell tomorrow and rushing through her post-session routine would make things even worse.

Her languid, relaxed muscles immediately flared when she finally read the flashing alert. Level 12 anachronism. _Holy fuck!_

She sprinted through her shower, tossed on fresh uniform, finger combed her hair, and hustled back to her office, mentally listing the agents she thought she could bring in, in a short amount of time. As she pulled up several names, she noticed monitoring flags had been added to every agent on her team except for her and Gary. _That goddamn son of a bitch_! Bennet. She’d have to figure out a way to work around him and his petty bullshit if need be. For now, she had bigger issues to worry about.

For the anachronism sensor to offer a rating outside of their normal scale, some serious shit was about to go down.

She pulled up her console anachronism map and slowed to a halt. _Fuck_. The level 12 was in New Valhalla, 1000 A.D. That meant Ava no longer had a choice as to whether or not to reach out to Sara. There was literally _zero_ chance she would be able to brush off or explain away any response other than for her to at least check in on the team handling the highest leveled anachronism she’d seen in years. _Damn it._

This was not how she wanted to next talk to Sara after what she personally had seen them go through in Central City, aware that she only knew a tiny portion of it, and after whatever had happened to the captain a few weeks earlier in Hollywood.

But, no matter her preferences, it was time for Ava to put on her best Agent Sharpe face and hail the Waverider.

“Agent Sharpe, it’s been a while…thankfully.” Ava noted Nate exiting the office behind his captain as quickly as possible. She had a moment of dread that perhaps he had told Sara about seeing her team in Central City.

Sara’s face was more shuttered than the last time they had spoken, revealing almost nothing about what she was thinking and feeling. The captain stood with arms crossed staring her down with annoyance.

This was not shaping up to be a good conversation.

“Captain Lance.” She tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible. The last thing she wanted was another argument.

“Let me guess. You saw that there was a Level 12 anachronism, and you are calling to lecture me on everything we are doing wrong.” The captain was undeniably in a defensive, abrasive, sarcastic mood. Or maybe it was just her.

It was a shame that Sara’s updo and clingy sweater made her so damn appealing while the Legend was simultaneously making it clear that Agent Sharpe was the last person on the face of the Earth with whom she wanted to chat.

Ava’s own defensiveness kicked in. “No.” She shook her head and pursed her lips, as if the idea she would do such a thing was completely outlandish.

Sara saw right through her bullshit, tilting her head in obvious disbelief.

She sighed, caught in the lie. It hadn’t been the reason she _wanted_ to call Sara, but Ava had to do her job.

“Okay, yes,” she allowed and glanced down, somewhat abashed.

The Legend’s knowing smirk, disappointed nod of acceptance, and low “hmm,” as if Ava had just confirmed Sara’s belief in her lack of basic deficiency as a person while also turning away from Ava spurred the agent on with what she’d wanted to say to the captain for days.

“But I also heard about Martin Stein” – Sara’s face hardened instantly at the mention of his name – “and I’m calling to express my condolences.”

_That_ caught the captain off guard. Ava watched several emotions play across Sara’s face, as if she was trying to decide how to respond appropriately…because Ava’s sincere and genuine concern was a new and different element in their dynamic.

It also briefly rang a faint bell in both their minds, remembering the Legend’s visit to the Bureau bunker immediately after Rip’s fiasco in London.

Ava’s brain was sending up all kinds of internal warning flares. She was letting Sara really see her, agent mask aside for a few seconds.

For her part, Sara seemed to stumble in her response, as if hesitant. “Well…thank you…” Her eyes wandered back up at Ava, with sincerity. “But my team and I…” – She couldn’t quite meet Ava’s eyes – “…we have it under control.” The captain finished with a brief nod, and the agent wasn’t sure if Sara was trying to reassure her or reassure herself.

The softness of her voice, the slight linger of doubt should have done something other than slam the agent mask back home, but seeing the rawness in Sara’s expression pushed every button of longing and fear simultaneously in Ava, so, of course, she had to respond like an asshole.

“I hope so, because the Legends fixing a level 12 under normal circumstances would be a Beebo Day miracle.” Ugh. Ava heard the words coming out of her mouth, and she assumed she came across like a patronizing prick.

Sara promptly pushed off from the conference table, and Ava tensed for what she knew was a well-deserved slap back. Why, oh why did she always act like this around the one woman she genuinely wanted to get to know outside the confines of her job?

But instead of angrily lashing out, the captain appeared bewildered.

“Did you just say Beebo Day?”

Ava was caught off guard. Sara wasn’t reading her the riot act that her unwarranted condescension merited. But the agent was also a little confused by the captain’s reaction.

The holidays started at the end of next week, and Ava was anticipating spending time away from the office without any reason to feel guilty. While she wouldn’t fly to Fresno to visit her parents or spend time with friends participating in the annual rituals, Beebo Day reminded her of a simpler time in her life.

“December 25th…Beebo Day? When families exchange gifts and sing silly songs and discover that they can no longer live under the same roof?” She laughed, recalling how ridiculous she found the whole holiday to be.

But then she noticed Sara’s reaction. The captain had brought her fingers to her lips and lowered her head, as if she was fighting back amusement and frustration simultaneously.

A sudden thought crossed Ava’s mind, and she titled her head slightly, as out of the corner of her eye she could see the anachronism map flash “12” repeatedly in big red numbers.

Sigh. Well…now she felt _really_ stupid. Great.

“Beebo Day is part of the anachronism, isn’t it?” she said wryly, with a good dose of self-depreciation.

“Yeah.” The captain softly confirmed. At least Sara wasn’t outright laughing at her. Yet.

“Yeah. Never felt right.” She shook her head, trying to regain some sort of composure so she didn’t burst into hysterical laughter or tears over the absurdity of the situation.

Sara crossed her arms once more, all business, leaning back against the table. She avoided Ava’s eyes and seemed to be weighing her next words carefully.

“This anachronism is cementing fast and to be honest, my team is still pretty raw from losing Stein. We could…use an outside perspective.” She surveyed Ava, somewhat hopeful.

“Are you asking for my help?” Ava didn’t know whether to be dumbfounded or elated.

“No.” The immediate disgust on Sara’s face tampered down Ava’s short-lived excitement. But she wordlessly raised her eyebrows skeptically. That had sure sounded like a request for assistance.

Sara sighed. “Okay, yes.”

The “yes” was all Ava needed or wanted to hear before she tapped the coordinates conveniently displayed on her courier. She stepped into the captain’s office behind Sara without fanfare. Sara asked for her help, and she’d give it, no strings attached.

Sara turned at the noise of the portal, obviously a bit startled to see Ava in the flesh when the Bureau office remained on the display behind the captain.

“Alright,” she greeted, warmly. Sara appraised her, as if trying to gauge what Ava being in the space meant, as if she was impressed that Ava had caught her off guard, as if the agent’s willingness to respond immediately, favorably to the request was unexpected, in a very good way.

“What’s the plan?” She was aware that there was a slight twinkle of enjoyment in her eyes as she lowered her chin to smile more directly at Sara. Ava was pleased that Sara had asked for her help and that she had nowhere to be and nothing to do back at the office for an entire day.

She wanted to show her ease and happiness, even, to the captain, but Ava also wanted to establish, from the get go, that she was there to follow Sara’s lead and support the Legends, not as contentious Agent Sharpe.

The glint in Sara’s eye and the slight smirk suggested she got the message (and the message was well received). This mission was her show to run, and Ava was along for the ride.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I don't own any rights related to Legends. I'm merely playing with them for a while. Verbatim use of dialogue from the show is not intended as a copyright infringement; I just need to borrow it for story purposes.

As she and Sara waited for the team to respond to the captain’s call to gather on the bridge, they exchanged pleasant small talk about the wedding Sara had attended (neither mentioning the Nazi invasion) and the Legends’ confusion regarding how and why young Stein had suddenly been transported to Vinland.

If the Legends were surprised to see her standing next to Sara at Gideon’s console, they didn’t say anything, though Nate smugly nodded once in her direction. Ava was somewhat wary of what, exactly, she’d gotten herself into when a doppelganger of Leonard Snart walked into the bridge, but she didn’t mention it. She knew Captain Cold had been dead for almost two years.

If they weren’t going to discuss her presence or his, she’d follow their lead and let it ride. Doing so seemed to be the Legends’ modus operandi.

The captain ran through the mission concisely, establishing objectives and possible obstacles. She allowed each of them to ask questions or seek clarification on who was doing what. Ms. Tomaz and Mr. Jefferson would sit this mission out, but every other Legend accepted their assigned tasks and headed to the ready room to prep for the mission.

Ava had to admit she was impressed. The plan was not one she would have created, but it might work anyway. What stood out to her, however, was what a smooth, integrated team Sara had formed. It was very obvious to Ava that the steady, supportive, defensive barrier they held around themselves as a group was attributed 100% to Captain Lance.

She’d seen the barely hidden, defiant glares directed her way when Sara asked if she had anything to add. Her swift, firm, “No, Captain” may have earned her some brownie points from both captain and crew.

These people were a family, she realized, not just a team. They were grieving, yes, but they were also moving on because they had no choice but to do so. What made them special is that they were doing all of it together, even with the vast, inherent differences of personality that under a less able leader would have twisted them apart from each other.

Ava felt more self-conscious than ever in joining them for this Vinland mission. She didn’t belong, and the genuine love and friendship they shared with each other reminded her of her thoughts about Stein’s funeral. The Legends had found the “something more” in life, even while living their jobs every day.

She remained on the bridge alone, deciding to wait in the relatively open and less personal space. Little had changed on this bridge since she’d completed her training years previously, which was unexpected given that Ava knew Sara had been captain for a while now.

The jump seats were closer to the captain’s chair with several auxiliary chairs added near the flight deck, she assumed to assist Sara when multi-tasking became a necessity.

They had upgraded Gideon’s station through the technical wizardry of Zari Tomaz. Ava suspected that Gideon would be more functionally advanced than most of the Bureau terminals in relatively short order.

As she stepped back into Sara’s office, or the captain’s parlour as she’d often heard Rip refer to it, she noted that a few more items here and there had been added since Hunter’s time, such as the picture of Sara, her sister, and Oliver Queen she’d noticed months ago.

Ava was intrigued as to why Lance had kept this space largely undisturbed. It was now her official space, after all, but the lack of personal items suggested that perhaps Sara hadn’t quite decided whether or not this was who she was or, perhaps, had simply never had a space of her own long enough to want to settle in. Something to ponder…

She had bent down to see what kinds of whiskey Sara kept stocked, when the captain spoke immediately behind her, making her jump.

“See something you like?” Ava was relieved she was facing away from Sara because her blush was immediate and profound.

“Uh…” Her brain was trying desperately to catch up with her mouth before she said something utterly stupid.

As if she were completely unaware that her question might not be so innocent, Sara continued, “I prefer Scottish and Irish labels myself, the more peat the better.”

Ava quickly raised up, causing blood to rush to her head, and the room spun a bit. She reached out and held on to Sara’s desk as inconspicuously as possible.

Sara quirked an amused eyebrow at her, briefly touching her arm. “You okay, agent?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” The captain didn’t believe her but nodded and stepped back.

“The others have cleared out of the ready room whenever you are ready. I took the liberty of having Gideon make you an outfit. I realize it’s probably a little over the top in comparison to what you guys do, but it works for the Legends.” She smirked, eyes challenging.

Ava couldn’t help but chuckle in response. “Thanks for letting me know, captain. I’ll head that way.”

She moved past Sara, but another brief, soft touch on her arm stopped her. “If you are going to be helping us with this mission, I think it’s probably okay to drop the titles for right now, don’t you?” Her eyes met Sara’s, and the warmth, humor, and light she saw there made her smile sincerely and openly in return, barriers dropped for a brief moment. She nodded once and then walked in the direction Sara had indicated.

Ava tried not to fidget in her Viking paraphernalia, but she’d never felt so ridiculous. She’d been relieved when Amaya Jiwe had offered to help braid her hair and buckle all the straps holding together the concoction of leather and fur. If the other Legends had not been dressed similarly, she might have believed that her outfit was a prank from Gideon.

As Amaya finished the last row of tight braids against Ava’s head, she leaned in as if to tie off the hair but instead whispered into Ava’s ear:

“Thank you for the back up in Central City, Agent Sharpe.” Ava pulled back swiftly, opening her mouth as if to deny she knew what Amaya was referencing. The totem bearer simply placed a hand on her shoulder, indicating she should wait to hear the rest.

Ava’s first thought was to be furious at Nate for telling her, even if they were a couple, but Amaya’s eyes were calm yet serious.

“Gideon passed along the message that you were responding to the scene. Given the number of bystanders I saw afterward who had mysteriously received first aid treatment yet believed they had survived a gas line explosion, it was not hard to determine that you had been there.” She smiled. “So, as acting captain of that mission, I wanted to thank you. I’m glad to have a chance to do so in person.”

Ava examined the floor, self-consciously playing with her fingers and fiddling with her courier, embarrassed and unsure how to respond to the thank you. Nate likely hadn’t said anything to Amaya, which relieved Ava because it meant he also hadn’t said anything to anyone else.

She had no desire to try to explain her decisions to Sara because it felt like Ava had witnessed something private, some part of Sara’s life as the White Canary who rode shotgun with a host of actual superheroes that she didn’t deserve to see as a mere Time Bureau suit.

Ava wasn’t sure why she cared what the Legends thought of her, but it mattered, for some reason, that at least two of them knew that she was good at her job and that she spent her time trying to save and help others. Agent Sharpe may be a pain in the ass, but underneath the pantsuit, she was a good person.

“You two ready?” Sara stood at the door, eyebrows raised in interest at the scene in front of her, suggesting she was aware she’d interrupted some kind of conversation between the two of them.

Amaya softly squeezed Ava’s shoulder and stepped back to admire her handiwork. The two women smiled at each other, and Amaya nodded. “Ready to go, captain.”

They were strolling up to the Viking’s encampment a short time later, when Amaya resumed their conversation: “Are you ready to see the Legends in action?”

“My goal is to do this peacefully…without action.” She trusted Sara’s plan could work, and she didn’t want to suggest that she held any doubts.

“There’s a first time for everything, I guess,” Amaya responded sarcastically.

 _Oh, great._ If the former JSA/fellow government agent was right, Ava needed to prepare herself for this thing to go sideways at any point.

Her hand instinctively tightened on her sword hilt when Erikson’s people did not openly welcome them for Yuletide as anticipated, but leave it to Sara to find a way through all the bullshit. Strong mead truly was the way to any Viking’s heart apparently.

They’d all settled into their assignments – blend in, socialize, party, gather intel on Beebo’s whereabouts. If one of her agents had told her she’d spend her day trying to recover a talking blue, stuffed children’s toy from drunken Vikings, she would have laughed out loud, yet here she was. She’d learned that protecting the timeline occasionally involved very odd circumstances.

She and Sara monitored the action from a distance initially, casually strolling around the raised dais and banquet tables slowly.

“As far as a strategy goes, this would not be my first pick.” Ava wasn’t trying to criticize the captain. She was genuinely interested in why Sara had chosen this approach, which the Legend seemed to realize because her response was not defensive.

“Why not?” She gestured with a large drumstick. “They welcomed us in. We get Beebo; we get out.”

“The Bureau has rules about fraternizing with the locals, and these costumes are ridiculous,” she replied, shifting awkwardly trying to seat the leather straps and fur more comfortably to her body.

Sara glanced over, scanning her up and down. “Nah, you look _good_.” The captain continued walking, but Ava stopped abruptly.

_Did she just check me out?_

A delighted grin crept onto the agent’s face before she hurried to catch up to Sara and grab the vacant seat next to the captain. It was their turn to initiate an attempt at learning the location of the damned “blue god.”

Ava was unsurprised that Sara had already challenged the Viking duo to a drinking contest before the agent had even sat down because _of course_ she did.

They’d never discussed whether Ava could even hold her liquor. Maybe it was Sara finding her examining the captain’s whiskey collection or maybe Sara rightly assumed that surviving agency training academies required a high alcohol tolerance. Either way, Sara trusted her to keep up, and keep up she did.

Several rounds of mead were downed at the table before the game could even begin in earnest. She’d chugged so much of the warming liquid that Ava accepted the fact she’d suffer through a major hangover the next day. She also suspected this particular challenge was no longer merely between them and the Vikings.

Every horn Ava gulped and slammed down was rewarded with a widening wicked smile, a raised eyebrow, and a delightedly incredulous side eye.

Left to their own devices and in circumstances not involving a mission and large warriors with big swords, Sara would keep this going as long as Ava could match her shot for shot, the agent realized, which made her slightly giddy but also more determined to play this out as long as she could.

As she guzzled yet another slug of the honeyed liquor, she snickered at the astonishment on the faces of the studly warriors.

“By Odin’s spear. you bested us!” The men leered at each other conspiratorially. “Beautiful, and they can hold their mead.” They turned back to Ava and Sara, excitement and lust warring in their stare.

“Tell us. Which of these clansmen are your husbands?” Ava scoffed loudly, unable to keep her amusement to herself. “And we’ll kill them!”

Were these guys serious?

“Oh.” She grinned, lazily gazing off in the distance. “I’m not really the husband kind,” she confessed honestly, then laughed at the extremely exuberant response from the Viking across the table.

Ava completely missed the quiet, interested, and _very_ intrigued appraisal she received from the woman next to her.

By the time she did peek over at Sara, the captain was already speaking, shifting Ava’s attention back to the mission. “Alright. You guys said if we won you’d take us to see your blue god.” In tandem, they leaned forward on the table.

Before they could get much further in their drinking-contest interrogation, Mick Rory was dragged into the hall, and the Legends’ plan fell apart.

“I thought you said that this was an undercover operation,” Ava whispered urgently as Sara ordered Snart to save Rory’s life.

Her anxiety was amping up, as she calculated they were outnumbered but perhaps not outgunned given what she knew about the martial skills and powers of herself and the Legends. Nothing about fighting the Vikings in this settlement would be subtle or discreet.

The captain grinned, seemingly thrilled that all hell was about to break loose: “Well, blowing your cover is half the fun.” She half glared at Ava, as if expecting the agent to object.

Ava held her tongue. This was Sara’s op and Sara’s team.

When Snart extinguished the flames, the warriors looked around astonished, uncertain, wondering, uncomfortable.

She had no idea what came over her, but Ava stepped into the light of the torches, intending to serve as a distraction and to head off a possible armed conflict.

“It’s a sign!” she bellowed.

The Legends in her sightline gaped at her like she’d lost her mind and maybe she had. She thought it best to ignore what the captain behind her might think.

“Beebo does not want our clansman to be burned.”

Oh, God. It was clumsy. It was so, _so_ awkward, standing with her arm held high. The Erikson siblings sneeringly frowned at her. This was why Ava was best suited for clandestine, behind the scenes ops.

She chanced a harried glimpse over her shoulder at Sara, who shrugged and nodded somewhat encouragingly, as if to say, “What the hell; it might work.”

Thankfully, Ray Palmer seemed to catch on to the general idea of Plan C (or was it D at this point): distract first, fight later.

“The blue god has shone mercy!”

Ava was about to chime in again when a dreadful, chilling sound resonated from behind her and Sara’s position – “I lu lu luv you,” followed by a deep, warbling giggle.

They spun to see that Nate and Amaya stood ten paces out, clutching the mission target, bright blue fur tucked under the totem bearer’s arm.

Over the pounding in her ears, Ava heard the clink and rasp of swords being drawn and reached to unsheathe her own. As one, she and Sara turned, assuming almost identical fighting stances.

It occurred to Ava, much later, that – just as they had done when fighting Romans the first time they had been in a combat situation near each other – they instinctively fought Freya as a matched pair, seamlessly reading the other’s intentions and working off of each other’s moves as if they’d practiced together hundreds of times.

They were in sync in a way Ava had never experienced before, even with the agents in her go team with whom she had fought alongside for years.

Ava had to admit that were she fighting Freya alone, she’d be in trouble. She was damned good with a sword, but Erikson was a master who kept both Ava and Sara fully engaged. When the Viking knocked away Ava’s sword, she had limited options. Lance caught her eye, however, and wordlessly they agreed to take Freya to the ground the bare-knuckle-match way.

Once they tackled her, Sara’s solid left hook gave them a reprieve, as they scanned the area for their teammates.

The captain stood and extended a hand to help Ava up, beaming with twinkling blue eyes: “Are you having fun yet?”

Ava shook her head and snorted in amusement, cut short when she noticed that Nate was surrounded by angry warriors. She tilted her head in that direction, and Sara swore under her breath, picked up her sword, and took off running.

By the time they reached him, it was all over, a smoldering, melted pile of blue fluff and tangled wires where once a false god ruled.

Ava was relieved as she watched the warriors walk with Leif away from Beebo and Freya’s influence.

“Well, looks like the Legends have saved Odin Day.”

“Odin Day?” Amaya queried from somewhere behind her. “You mean Christmas.”

Ava wrinkled her forehead and frowned, honestly puzzled. “Doesn’t ring a bell…” Something was off. She pivoted to gaze at Amaya and Sara, both observing her with crossed arms and frustrated expressions.

“Ohhh, I thought we fixed the anachronism,” Sara protested and shut her eyes, visibly annoyed.

The flashy arrival of the Darhks promptly clarified why the anachronism was not, in fact, fixed, and Ava was thankful that the captain ordered a retreat.

Ava, Amaya, and Sara strolled through the Waverider toward the team meeting. The Darhks were at the center of everything troubling both the Legends and the Bureau, and Ava wanted them dealt with. She had no idea how to fight them, though, without even more casualties. The agent hoped the Legends might have some secret formula she, Shepard, and the rest of the Bureau had missed.

“That was unexpected,” Amaya chimed in. “I mean, not the Darhks showing up. They seem to enjoy altering history.” She scrutinized Sara. “ _You_ retreating.”

Sara walked on, ignoring the look. “Well, Vikings are one thing. If we’re going to tangle with the Darhks, we have to get our heads on straight.”

Ava chose her words carefully, as her input had not been invited. “I, for one, am glad you’re treading cautiously.” The Legends had no way of knowing the extent of the Darhk’s damage or power. The agent was limited in what she could tell them, but she felt supporting Sara’s unexpected judiciousness was best for everyone. Neither woman seemed surprised by her commentary.

Gideon’s overly cheerful warning regarding the increasing level of the anachronism and the subsequent time quake spurred her into action, as she mentally scrolled through their current options.

Her thought process was derailed by Sara asking if Ava could attain back up from the Bureau.

 _Shit. Well, that’s a complicated question with no easy answer,_ she internally mused.

“The last time we faced Nora Darhk, she put Sara in a coma,” Ray helpfully added to the discussion.

That tidbit made Ava's decision much easier.

_Wait. Sara had been a coma? When? How long had she been out? Was she okay now?!_

A part of her brain clicked as the puzzle piece slid into place. The Hollywood mission with Helen of Troy. She’d been right; there had been more to the story than Sara had told her.

“Right.” She nodded, firmly. Ava would be damned if the Bureau would stay on the sidelines if Sara getting seriously hurt again was a possibility. “I’ll speak to Director Bennet.”

Ava heard Sara’s sincere “Thank you,” but she was already hurrying off the bridge. She had several calls to make, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

With the Bureau still in the middle of the mission moratorium, a moratorium that was the direct result of Ava herself pitching a fit about agents desperately needing down time, trying to convince Bennet to allow her to bring in a team to help the Legends of all people was going to be a fucking nightmare.

As she rushed to change back into her suit and let out her hair, she outlined the matter to Tracey and Shepard via courier comms.

“Sharpe,” Shepard groused, “you know I want a go at that monster, but I don’t have any strike teams that could be ready within the hour. I can probably handpick one or two who might volunteer for the mission…until they hear it involves the Legends.”

“Rip burned a lot of bridges,” Tracey added. “You can’t expect the people in our agency not to hold the Legends partially responsible, even if that’s unfair.”

Ava admitted that they were right, but it didn’t make it any less disheartening.

The HR Director queried, “Can’t you pull in your own team?”

“If only,” Ava joked harshly. “Bennet has activated electronic surveillance on them. If anyone other than me or Gary logs in to headquarters or activates their couriers before the 72-hour window has expired, the whole team will be suspended for insubordination.” She’d discovered that second petty parting gift from the Director in her system shortly before she’d come to the Waverider at Sara’s request.

Tracey and Shepard both cursed, realizing that Ava was stuck without any viable options…except one. She had to contact Bennet and ask him to lift the restrictions on her team a few hours early.

He was forcing her to play by his rules and keeping her under his thumb as much as he could.

_Goddamn it._


	8. Chapter 8

“Gideon, can you please connect a call to Director Bennet?”

She stood at attention in Sara’s office, tall, straight, proud but not so arrogant that it would immediately challenge the man as soon as he answered the call.

Ava was every bit the Assistant Director of the Time Bureau, every wrinkle chased away, boots gleaming with a fresh shine. She had to put her absolute best into this, and she understood, without a doubt, that she’d have to sell a piece of her soul or pay some other dear price to get what she wanted.

“Call connecting, Agent Sharpe.” Maybe the AI was starting to soften on her after Central City or after she’d come here at Sara’s request. Who knew?

“Thank you, Gideon.” She took one last, deep breath.

“Agent Sharpe,” he drolled, already disinterested. He stood in the Star City offices, boxes in the hall behind him.

“Director. Sir.” Ava steeled herself. “I have a request.”

“Get to the point, agent. I have too much to do for any of your standard rambling.” She wouldn’t rise to the bait.

“Damien and Nora Darhk are interfering with the arrival of Leif Erikson in the Americas.”

Bennet looked at her impassively. “And?”

“Sir, the anachronism is registering a level 14 currently. These events have a profound impact on the history of our country, specifically. We must intervene.”

“Again, agent, get to the point. The Bureau is on mission lockdown for another” – he glanced down – “four and a half hours.”

“Director Bennet.” She sighed. He was going to make her spell it out, specifically, because he could. “I am officially requesting that I be allowed to pull in my team, and my team alone, to address this extremely high-level anachronism.”

He slowly smirked, looking every bit the grinch who stole the holidays.

“Just so I understand your request. You would like me to lift the moratorium on missions for a somehow special group of eight people so that you and your team of agents can take on Damien Darhk, who has massacred many good men and women, in precivilization New Valhalla without any chance of Bureau backup. You seem to want to put your team into a…what was it you said…a dangerous situation ‘without the proper care and respect’ that your agents deserve.”

Ava clenched her jaw, biting into her tongue. Anything she said right now would make the situation even worse.

“And…you are making this highly questionable and unorthodox request standing on the bridge of a stolen Bureau timeship that is currently operated by a group of deviant imbeciles who associate themselves with the former Director of this agency who currently occupies a prison cell at Bureau headquarters.”

Bennet raised an imperious eyebrow, forcing her into a response of some kind.

“Director, the Legends called for Bureau backup through official, protocol-approved channels. As an AD, I am not personally bound by the current freeze on go team missions. I believed the situation to be of the utmost importance for the safety and security of our nation and of this agency, so I responded to the request. Having now assessed and observed the situation, my recommendation is that my personal go team participate in the subdue and capture mission the Legends have formulated.” Ava tried to keep her voice as even, calm, professional, and neutral as she could.

“As if any plan of theirs will ever succeed,” he ridiculed.

“All the more reason for the Bureau to intercede, sir,” Ava countered.

Bennet waved her comment away. But he placed a hand on his chin, pondering. As if he had come to a decision, he gestured to his assistant behind him wordlessly. With a nod, the assistant projected several images on the grey white walls of the Director’s soon to be vacant office.

“Do you know what you are looking at, Agent Sharpe?” he asked, tone dripping with condescension.

“No, sir. Gideon?” The screen zoomed in on image after image, each one more disturbing than the last:

An ancient watercolor painting of the Great Wall of China mid attack by an unnaturally large gorilla, likely Grodd based on Sara’s recent report.

The crumpled, mutilated bodies of Bureau agents strewn in a field, Aztek warriors and Spanish conquistadors celebrating together in the background.

Hitler and Churchill shaking hands.

Reagan shot, bleeding out and dying on the sidewalk.

The Capital Building cratered on 9/11.

Tears swam in Ava’s eyes and her chin shook slightly with the effort to maintain some control. _What the actual fuck?_

The screen viewed zoomed out to display Bennet standing with his arms crossed tightly, staring at her, rigid.

“Do you understand _now_ , Agent Sharpe, why the little games you, Rip, and the Legends play are so pathetically futile?” He gestured to the wall of images with an arm sweep as he continued.

“This Bureau was built to make sure humanity stands the test of time, and while I am sure that the Legends have created some kind of catastrophe performing Viking rituals, I do not have the luxury of caring. And neither, Miss Sharpe, _do you_!” Spittle flew from his mouth. and the muscles on his neck bulged to the point Ava was concerned about his health.

He continued, increasingly enraged, his voice vibrating. “Damien and Nora Darhk are personally responsible for every atrocity you’ve just seen, but every agent, every team I have sent in to fight them in coordination with the CIA, the FBI, and the goddamn United States military has died. There is no way in a million years that I would authorize you and your little team to partner with the Legends. _Ever_.” Bennet yelled.

The Director stopped, closed his eyes for a beat, and pursed his lips, then began again, speaking forcefully but without the rage. “You’ve wasted both of our valuable time even bothering to make this call, but I am glad you did. You are hereby ordered to return to headquarters, immediately, Agent Sharpe. Not only will your team not be joining you in this ridiculous attempt to deal with the Darhks, you will not be participating in such a mission either.”

His timber dropped, threatening. “If you are not back in this building in ten minutes, I will make it my personal mission to strip you of your position and to bounce you out of this Bureau, no matter how many agents resign in protest. Are we clear, Agent Sharpe?”

“Crystal, sir.” Bennet hung up, and she knew she was now on the clock. A clock he would watch obsessively in the hopes she would defy him in some way, giving him the chance to get rid of her.

_Fuck. That did not go well._

“Please tell me you have good news.” Sara stepped into the parlour.

 _Double fuck_. Ava squeezed down on the fist she held behind her back. She blinked the tears out her eyes, cleared her furrowed brow as much as possible, shook her head slightly, as if to make the last few minutes disappear, and twisted around to face the captain. Ava attempted to keep her demeanor as neutral as possible. For both their sakes, she did not want to describe the exchange that had just occurred with her boss.

“I’m afraid Director Bennet doesn’t believe this mission is the best use of our resources.” _There_. That was about as good a vague but truthful answer the agent could muster.

She kept her hands tight behind her, afraid that if she let them go, Sara would notice they were trembling.

Incredulous, Sara demanded justification for the decision. “So the Time Bureau’s just gonna let the Darhks run around and change history?!” disbelief and contempt contending in her response.

This was a no-win situation for Ava; she sighed, almost resigned, glancing away from Sara. She owed the captain an explanation. She wanted to discuss _everything_ about the entire situation with Sara, but she didn’t have time or the energy to do that right now. Ava considered, briefly, how much she could get away with telling the woman while also toeing the line on agency protocol.

She spoke softly, disappointment, exhaustion, and pain bleeding in. “The Bureau is in disarray…ever since Rip was sentenced to prison—” she trailed off, gazing at the table. Sara obviously hadn’t been aware of that.

“Wait. Rip is in prison?” It was a testament to how often Ava paid careful attention to the captain’s face, which she’d learned communicated so much with a minute twitch of an eyebrow or the slight curl of a lip, that she was able to decipher some of Sara’s mixed, fleeting emotions and thoughts.

She nodded. There was so, so much Ava wished they had discussed long before this moment.

“He was hardly convincing at the tribunal, raving about Mallus…” The captain leaned onto the conference table, burdened, frustrated. “…completely unapologetic and in his absence, Damien Darhk has recruited even more allies.” Ava’s tone was a neutral and professional as possible, but she was trying to tell Sara that Bennet was letting things spin out of control.

Without Rip, the Bureau was in trouble. She hoped Sara was putting the puzzle pieces of what she was leaving unsaid together.

Ava felt like she had to offer justification, tangible proof as to why Darhk was untouchable from the Bureau’s standpoint.

“Gideon, can you pull up what Director Bennet showed me, please?” She prepared herself to see the disturbing images flash by once more, but Gideon only displayed the watercolor of Grodd. Sara stepped over to examine the picture.

“Grodd survived Vietnam. Darhk secured him a means of time travel.”

“Of course,” the captain responded sarcastically. Sara slid down until she half sat on the edge of the table, next to Ava, crossed her arms, and ran a hand wearily across her forehead several times.

Ava glanced at her and leaned against the table as well, as close as could be comfortable. She heard the ticking seconds in the back of her mind, but this moment felt important.

It was just the two of them, struggling with the knowledge and the weight of the world. But the weight was shared. Neither was alone in this. That mattered somehow, somewhere.

“Darhk and his daughter are just too powerful. They have magic that we don’t understand.” She turned to face Sara directly, willing her to appreciate the toll this was taking on Ava. “We’ve lost scores of agents trying to fight them.”

The captain turned, half defiant, half taunting, “So what, what does that mean?” Ava looked away. “That you’re just gonna throw in the towel?” Sara’s eyes blazed, issuing a challenge, arms tightly crossed.

Ava exhaled, sadly, thinking of the many funerals she’d had to attend in recent months. “We can’t afford to lose anyone else.” She held Sara’s gaze, realizing a second too late that she’d chosen the least empathetic thing she could possibly say.

“And I _can_?” Glaring, Sara pushed off the desk.

“No, I’m—” She wanted to take it back, say the right thing, use different words that communicated how much she actually, amazingly cared about the Legends, about Sara.

Aversion laced the captain’s words. “Do you have _any_ idea how hard this has been on us?”

_Damn it._

As softly and genuinely as she could, Ava tried to take a step back from the hurt she’d inadvertently caused, speaking almost tenderly. “I really am sorry, Sara.”

If the captain noticed it was the first time Ava had addressed her by name, she didn’t acknowledge it, but the two of them stared at each other for several hushed moments.

Ava’s courier sounded loud in the room, breaking the spell. She cleared her throat, tugging the agent persona closer. Time was well and truly up.

“Director Bennet has ordered me to return to the Time Bureau.” Ava stepped around Sara, striding to a more open area in the office in which she could open a portal. Her courier indicated she had less than two minutes left, and the message from Bennet scrolling on her screen was harsh.

“Screw his orders!” Ava turned to Sara, somewhat flabbergasted. “I need you here.” The mask of invincibility, invulnerability that Sara doggedly displayed to the world slipped just enough.

Whether it was the reference to Stein or the importance of the mission or the heaviness of the responsibilities Sara carried, whatever it was, Ava could see her, see into her and through her for the first time. The captain had lowered her ever-present shields at the very moment Ava could not do a damn thing about it except turn and walk away.

Her chest ached for the soul in front of her searching for a soft place to rest for a single heartbeat, nothing more, before it had to pick up its sword to fight another day.

She ached for the part of herself that longed to do nothing more than reach out and pull Sara into her arms for a long hug, the part that heard the desperation in Sara’s voice that went well beyond the confines of this mission.

All Ava could do was pull further into her agent persona. Her entire career was on the line.

“Look, I know Darhk is personal for you. And you’re the last person to back out of a fight.” Sara’s gaze never wavered from hers. “But you asked me to give you an outside perspective. If you’re concerned about the safety of your team, leave Vinland.”

_Please, god, listen to me. Please don’t rush into this fight angry at the world and short-handed. Please, Sara._

All the things she couldn’t say stuck in her throat.

She shook her head slowly, hoping the calm emphasis would matter. “This is not a fight the Legends can win.”

It took every modicum of strength she had to turn her back, open the portal, and step through it, mere seconds before Bennet’s timer expired.

Ava did not dare to look back before she heard the portal close.

She collapsed into the nearest lobby chair.

“You cut it close, Sharpe.” Liz lingered at the bottom of the stairs up to the executive level.

Ava nodded but kept her head resting in her hands. In her decades long service to the U.S. government this had been hardest directive she’d ever followed.

The HR Director moved over and sat on the fancy coffee table in front of Ava, pushing random lobby magazines aside to give herself a perch.

A brief tap on her knee encouraged the agent to look up.

“You did what you had to do, Ava.” Liz’s eyes were kind, empathetic.

“They are going to get killed. Darhk is going to murder them as easily as he has our agents” She muttered urgently, distressed. Ava sunk lower in the chair and stared out of the windows, seeing nothing.

“Hmm. Maybe.” They sat in silence for minute or two. “Did I ever tell you that I helped Director Hunter compile the information in our asset files?” Liz smiled at her knowingly, mind apparently dancing with secrets. Ava couldn’t help but notice the grin, a little intrigued.

“Agent Sharpe, if you’ve learned anything from Hunter and anything from reading those files, you should know that no one, and I mean no one, should ever bet against Sara Lance and her team.” She patted Ava’s knee, stood abruptly before the agent could formulate a response, and then sauntered away, heels tapping on the marble.

Ava closed her gaping mouth with a click of teeth, shaking her head in bemusement. _Okaaay, then_. Time to wrap up her day.

She made it a point to walk by Bennet’s office, waving at his assistant as she casually strolled past the glass doors and ensuring that the fucker would be informed that she had returned as ordered, not that he hadn’t been monitoring her courier.

Hours ticked by, and Ava involuntarily checked the anachronism map again. 14. 14. 14. 14. The red numbers refused to shift.

What was happening in Vinland? What was the plan? How could they possibly take on Leif and Freya Erikson, three ships of Viking warriors, and two sorcerers, one possessed by a demon if Rip were to be believed? With the just the eight of them?

Ava’s own team of eight extremely well trained and experienced agents (well…seven plus Gary) would stand no chance against those odds, so what did the Legends have up their sleeves that Ava wouldn’t think of in the same situation?

The agent slapped her desk in annoyance. She’d drive herself mad if she sat staring at this map any longer.

It was well past closing time, her paperwork was done, and her team had finally checked in after the moratorium concluded. They’d all be back tomorrow, pushing through as many anachronisms as they could fit in before the holidays.

Ava should be excited to get them into the field again, but she found no comfort in the thought.

Locking her office door, shutting down her console, and packing up her briefcase, as per her habits, her mind was a thousand years in the past.

She opened a portal home, profoundly regretting that she could not be elsewhere.


	9. Chapter 9

The clock on her nightstand read 2:18am. Ava surveyed her bedroom groggily, wondering what had woken her. All was quiet and still.

“Agent Sharpe!” The scratchy, tinny voice called again, as if someone had been trying to get her attention for a while.

Ava was confused and a touch concerned. Both her courier and her phone were powered off. Her bedroom vid console was black with no indications of use.

The agent reached for the gun safe hidden in her bed frame, fingertip scanner popping the top.

She inspected her room with purpose now, weapon at the ready, carefully examining every inch for anything out of place that could explain the noise.

“Agent Sharpe, get up!” Ava at last recognized the voice, though she still couldn’t determine its origins.

“Gideon?”

“Agent, Captain Lance cannot be located within range of my sensors and her medical stats have flatlined.”

Ava raced out of bed, mechanically donning her uniform and strapping on her weapons. She had no idea what she was doing, but she was going to do something. “Any additional information? What happened?”

“Undetermined. I have readings for the other Legends, but Captain Lance’s coms and readings went silent approximately twenty-four seconds ago.”

 _Goddamn it!_ Her chest started pounding. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. This was no time for an anxiety attack.

Ava grabbed her gear, but then paused, heart sinking. “We have a slight problem, Gideon. I can’t use my courier for this. I have no way to get to them.”

“The jumpship is outside your front door. Move, Agent Sharpe. Now!” Ava ran without hesitation, racing through her apartment, and into the small bay door already sliding closed. The ship was in motion before she was seated. As soon as her ass hit the chair, the colors outside contorted and stretched.

The jumpship landed with an abrupt skid, and Ava twisted out of the seat, sprinting full on with no regard to her surroundings, long legs churning, her only focus the slight blue glow she could barely see shimmering in the camp clearing scattered with downed fighters, both Legend and Viking.

She never thought twice; somehow, she just knew that in that light was where she would find Sara. She crashed into an invisible barrier of some kind as she neared the glow, temporarily knocking the wind from her lungs, but Ava would not be deterred.

Anger, fear, regret, all the swirling emotions and frustrations she had carried within for far too long drove her as she slammed her fist into the barrier repeatedly, ignoring the pain skating down her arm.

The barrier bent fractionally inward for a breath of a moment, barely long enough for her to reach through and curl her fingers around the flash of white she’d seen in the beyond.

Ava pulled as if everything she ever loved depended on her ability to clutch the leather tight enough for its wearer to reach this side of the barrier. She flung Sara out of the void, holding on as she stumbled to regain her balance.

The captain gaped at Ava, eyes bright, relief and wonder in her voice. “You came back.”

“It’s like you said…” She brushed her sleep tousled hair off her forehead, trying to remain as cool and casual as she could. “…you needed me.” As if everything was just that simple.

“Well, your timing is impeccable.”

Ava grinned and surveyed down the shore, noting that the jumpship was long gone. Gideon was definitely a saucy wench. She couldn’t help but joke, “It’s a Christmas miracle,” as she pulled her suit back into place.

Sara considered her answer and leaned her head back with relief. “Yaaas.”

As the team trudged back to the Waverider’s location, friendly bickering between them like children, Ava realized that her courier was strapped to her wrist out of sheer habit, which meant her location had been logged.

Oh well. There wasn’t much she could do at this point, and she saw no reason to rush back home or into the office. She’d take whatever punishment she was sure Bennet would hand down. While she technically had obeyed his order by leaving the Waverider and transporting to the Bureau at his command, she had disobeyed him by participating in the mission.

Additionally, she had nothing significant to show for it from the Bureau’s standpoint. They hadn’t captured the Darhks, though the anachronism was fixed. America wouldn’t go Viking.

But…Sara was alive and whole. To Ava, that was of greater importance than most any Bureau objective…though that realization was genuinely stunning.

She’d participated in this mission on her own time, sacrificing one of the few nights she’d have had eight or more hours of sleep to be here. She regretted nothing, other than having to walk away from the captain in the first place.

Ava let the conversation roll over her, hearing only the rise and fall of voices, until she felt a hand lightly brush her arm.

She glanced over, to see Sara looking at her inquisitively. “You okay?” Ava nodded, choosing to keep her thoughts to herself while they were traipsing alongside the team.

Sara seemed to sense the source of Ava’s reticence to chat and she slowed, allowing the Legends to continue ahead, and Ava automatically stopped as well.

“Mick said you sprinted in from nowhere and repeatedly punched at an invisible barrier until you pulled me out.” The captain’s tone suggested she was both impressed and intrigued.

The agent shrugged. It was really no big deal in the grand perspective of things.

The captain touched her arm again. “Ava, you saved me.” _Oh_. She inhaled. Okay that mattered. The softness in Sara saying her name felt like a big deal. The woman held her gaze, meaningfully. “Thank you.” They stared at each other in warm, hushed tableau until Nate yelled for Sara to get a move on.

Moment broken, they trekked on toward the Waverider.

Ava finally spoke. “Are you sure you are okay? What happened in there? Where were you?”

Sara briefly described an otherworldly experience. She’d been transported into a parallel plane of existence, one beyond the world they knew.

The agent was aware that there were other dimensions and worlds, but the scope of her mission largely ignored their existence. She wondered if Sara would suffer any side effects or medical issues as a consequence.

Ava’s vague concerns triggered a more profound anxiety, which she was sure was a lingering effect of her mad rush to reach the captain. But it wasn’t really her business. Sara wasn’t her business.

She pulled her lip between her teeth, unaware that her fingers were twirling and twisting nervously around each other in front of her as well.

“Spit it out, Sharpe.”

Ava’s eyebrow slowly crept up in puzzlement.

“Whatever has you tied up in knots, woman, just tell me.” Sara stepped in front of her to face her, ostensibly blocking Ava’s way up the entrance ramp into the Waverider.

Choices, choices. What could she say that didn’t reveal the extent of her interest in or care about the captain while also being honest, as Sara deserved?

“The Legends rely on you, and I am concerned that there may be some side effects, possible medical complications from your…time away.” There. That was easy enough and true.

Sara smirked haughtily and crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed with Ava’s carefully chosen words. “You are ‘concerned.’ Jesus, agent, don’t go all soft on me.”

Ava huffed and began to fidget with her fingers again, eyes darting everywhere but the Legend.

“Hey!” The agent’s mental spin out came to a screeching halt. “Come back.” Sara wrapped her hands around Ava’s upper arms, squeezing to center her focus. She nodded, silently thanking the captain for her intervention to ward off an anxiety event.

“Captain, if I may…” The clipped British accent rang nearby.

“What is it Gideon?”

“I believe Agent Sharpe’s concerns to be legitimate. Given your recent recovery from a coma and the negative impact your absence had on the rest of the Legends, as well as the fragile emotional state of the team after the demise of Professor Stein, taking extra precautions is wise.”

After eyeing Ava for a few seconds, the captain rolled her eyes and swaggered her way into the cargo bay, gesturing for Ava to follow.

“Fine. If it will get you two mother hens off my back, I’ll let you run a full scan, Gideon.

“There is nothing physically ailing you, Captain Lance.”

“Told you.” Sara sing-songed sarcastically. “I’m fine.” She unstrapped the monitor cuff and pushed off the medical bay chair, obviously agitated by the whole process.

Ava puffed, “You also told me you visited an alternate dimension.”

“Well it wasn’t my first time,” as if she should be aware that the connections between Sara’s survival in previous crossover missions to this incident were self-evident.

The captain understandably wanted to forget the whole thing and get back to her post-mission routines.

“Sara… “ Before she could completely think it through, Ava reached out and grabbed Sara’s arm to prevent her from leaving the medical bay. The woman instantly rounded on Ava, effort apparent as the former assassin halted her body’s finely honed defensive instincts. The look Sara shot her was not welcoming or comforting, but the agent wanted to understand, needed to understand what had happened.

Pulling her hand back immediately, she resumed her closed off, parade rest stance, trying to give them both necessary space and boundaries. “Tell me exactly what you saw in there.” All Agent Sharpe, investigator, inquisitor. It wasn’t the time to try to be Sara’s friend. She needed information.

The Legend seemed to get that need. “Look…I don’t know okay? It wasn’t about what I saw it…it was about what I _felt_. It was an absence of feeling—” Ava’s mind shifted into high gear, view shifting away from Sara toward the floor, calculating as she was listening. “—no warmth, no love, just a void. And, the only thing filling the void was…Mallus.” Ava’s head raised up slowly, meeting Sara’s eyes with dread.

 _Fuck._ “Seems Rip was right to be obsessed with him.” She moved to step around the captain, sudden urgency in her movements. “I need to tell the Bureau…” Ava’s mind mocked her regarding how fun _that_ conversation with Bennet would be.

A slightly taunting, slightly sincerely asking Sara spoke up before Ava could reach the door: “Well aren’t you afraid of getting in trouble for disobeying orders?”

“It was worth it.” The words leapt out, full disclosure. Her gaze skimmed up Sara’s form, and her eyes helplessly warmed with all the possibilities between them.

The Legend’s eyes fixed on hers, churning, sexy, soft. Sara looked at her as if she could see for miles inside of Ava’s soul, as if she was stunned by Ava’s open admission. 

Ava paused. “See ya’ again.” Her heartbeat pounded, thunderous in her ears, throat drying.

She fled because there was truly nothing else to say. Her brief, hopeful, genuine smile and the playful glint in her eyes as she turned away from Sara said it all.

_Lord. That was smooth, Sharpe._

Sara fucking Lance short-circuited her brain at the worst possible times.

She’d slipped up. She hadn’t shielded her feelings very well, and Ava knew without a doubt Sara had seen something, something _more_ in her gaze.

The agent would be walking into a shitstorm when she reached the Bureau in a few short hours. But stepping up to her front door almost weightless, unfamiliar feelings to say the least, left her in a place where momentarily she just did. not. care.

Agent Sharpe would have plenty of time and space to care later.

Ava had not been in the least bit surprised to see Bennet, two of his personal detail, Liz Tracey, and Richard Shepard waiting for her when she arrived in the lobby.

She was surprised, however, that he had publicly had her detained, taken away her gear and weapons, and threatened her with a tribunal of her own. That aspect of his exhibition-driven dressing down was certainly beyond what Tracey and Shepard had anticipated based on their reactions. They were both overtly furious by the time Bennet’s demeaning, insulting harangue about her insubordination and disregard for the Bureau wrapped up.

Leaning back stretched out with her feet propped up on the only other chair in the containment cell, hands joined behind her neck, she shook her head, incredulous, but oddly detached and bemused.

Her suit coat was folded somewhere on the floor, near her discarded boots; her button-down shirt was untucked, sleeves rolled and pushed up past her elbows. She’d run her fingers through her hair repeatedly, giving her a messy, disheveled, borderline carefree appearance.

It was _still_ worth it, and the Director couldn’t take anything about the last mission away from her. Ava would absolutely do everything she’d done all over again just the same.

Was she in denial that her career at the Bureau was likely done? Yep. She lived and breathed this job. She would miss it; a damn good agent, the Bureau would miss her, too.

If Bennet wanted to turf her out, there wasn’t a single thing she could do to change it. She’d given him the ammunition, knowingly.

Blowing up her career had not been on her planner at the end of the year, but spinning out and focusing on her anxiety would rob her of this weird undercurrent of freedom she improbably felt while staring at the blank walls of this cell.

She’d followed Rip to the very end, apparently. Ava absurdly wondered if their containment units shared any walls.

Musing that Hunter might be enjoying his respite from the ever-present pressure of serving as the guardian of the timeline, she missed the whir of cell door sliding open.

The chair on which her feet rested was rudely, unkindly yanked away, and she almost fell out of her own, but her face was all calm, patient, professional when she looked up at the culprit, one of Bennet’s goons.

Ava glanced over her shoulder, realizing that Bennet, Tracey, and Shepard hovered in the door of her containment unit. She stood up in her stocking feet and assumed parade rest position. Even in here, she was Ava Sharpe, agent, respector of authority, and rule follower…ish.

The four of them stared each other down wordlessly, tense. She refused to speak first. They’d come to find her down here, so she was going to make them explain what they needed. It was an intentional flip of the power dynamics in which Bennet was so invested. Ava plastered a pleasant, interested, open look on her face.

_Your move, Director._

Liz Tracey pointedly glared at Bennet and gestured for him to step forward into the room. He looked ready to argue with her, but Shepard’s stern head shake ended whatever ideas Bennet had, had.

He eased forward into the cell, all bluster. “Agent Sharpe.”

“Sir?” Voice firm, attitude unshaken.

“I have been _reminded_ ” the word, sour in his mouth “that the Director does not have the ability to detain or dismiss an Assistant Director without the express consent and approval of the board and a majority vote of the ADs.”

Her face remained impassive, but she titled her head as if allowing him to continue.

Bennet’s teeth ground together. “Thus, you are hereby suspended without pay for ten days, Ms. Sharpe. Your Bureau-issued gear will remain in our possession, and you will be escorted out of the building immediately. At no point in your suspension may you contact any Bureau employee or return to Bureau property for any reason.” His words gritted, like sandpaper, trying to cow her, which did the opposite.

It meant she was suspended until after the holidays, which technically extended her time out of work beyond the ten-day suspension, but she wasn’t going to argue.

“At the conclusion of this suspension, you will be subject to a disciplinary review by myself, Assistant Director Tracey, and Assistant Director Shepard where you will have the opportunity to explain your recent actions before the panel determines whether you may return to full status with the Bureau at that time.” Behind Bennet, the wide smile on Shepard’s normally somber face and the wink from Tracey let her know all would be well.

She had, had their backs repeatedly over the years, and now they had hers.

With one final disdain-filled glower at her, Bennet stomped out of the cell followed by his guard.

“Agent Sharpe, I do believe he means you are free to go,” Shepard joked dryly.

They waited as she re-donned her uniform and set everything in its proper place.

Together, the three of them strolled through the lobby, discussing holiday plans and exchanging grins as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Shepard slapped her shoulder a few times as they neared the exit, wishing her a Merry Christmas. Tracey handed her, her cell phone and squeezed her hand lightly.

They were covering for her here as well, sending a message to any doubting, alarmed agent who might be watching that Ava was not in her fight alone and was, in fact, **not** an enemy of the Bureau.

Ava perused the lobby, as if trying to keep a picture of it in her mind, nodded once, firmly, and pushed open the glass door.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this next chapter, I have taken some liberties with the canon timeline but only slight ones. Jefferson does not leave immediately at the end of the Vinland mission because in my mind it would take him longer than 30 seconds to realize that he couldn’t continue on the ship without Martin. So instead of the walk in from talking to the young version of Stein to the walk straight back out again, I give him a few days to think about it. Constantine's arrival is also pushed back. 

It was Ava’s turn to send a message via Gideon, but without her courier, reaching the Waverider was proving to be a challenge. It wasn’t like she had the AI or any of the Legends in her phone contact list.

Gary would happily provide her with the information he could access at the Bureau, but she didn’t want to risk his career or hers by contacting him, even with just a text message.

Thus, she was on her hands and knees searching every corner of her bedroom looking for the source of Gideon’s voice days earlier. There had to be some way of reverse engineering the equipment…if she could figure out how the AI had been talking to her in the first place.

If anyone had asked her why it was so important to let the Legends know she was suspended, she would have had no easy explanation, but she wanted Sara to be aware of the situation.

Gary would be responding to all Legends-related inquiries while she was out of the office, yet Ava couldn’t help but be concerned that the captain might read her noticeable absence in those interactions in a less than positive way.

An amused clearing of a throat close by made her raise up too quickly, and she knocked her head on the edge of her bedside table.

“You busy?” Sara’s extremely entertained smirk appeared on her vid screen.

Rubbing the forming knot on her head, she glared at Sara.

“If you must know, I was searching for something.”

“Crawling around on your floor?”

She sighed and then scowled as the captain’s amusement only increased.

After her laughter had faded, Sara grew serious.

“Gary informed Gideon that you are on suspension. That sucks, Sharpe.”

“Mm.” Ava climbed onto her bed and sat facing her vid console with her arms crossed, eyes downcast.

“Because of us?” Sara's question was sincere, quiet.

Ava nodded. “Mm. But mostly because of me. It was my decision to come back to Vinland, Sara.” She pursed her lips, as if weighing that decision all over again.

The captain’s voice reflected some astonishment, as if she’d just realized: “You knew you might be suspended, and you came anyway.”

“Yep.” The agent raised her gaze to Sara’s, holding it for several seconds before glancing away.

Tilting her head, the captain smiled slightly. “Well, I just wanted to reach out and say thank you, again. I’m sorry to bother you at home, despite the great visuals,” - Was Sara _flirting_?! - “but I didn’t have any other way to get ahold of you. Gideon informed me she could access your home terminal…without mentioning this one was in your bedroom. I apologize for the intrusion.”

There was an awkward pause for a few seconds, Sara perhaps concerned she had overstepped through no fault of her own and Ava considering whether her first instinct was a wise one.

The question was out before she could tell that first instinct to shove off. “Can you text from the temporal zone?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I know our internet access is spotty. Hang on.” Sara shifted her attention monetarily.

-Gideon?

-Yes, Captain.

-If I send a text from the Waverider, can it reach Star City in relatively real time?

-Yes, Captain. Ms. Tomaz’s recent upgrades allow me to access cell phone towers, so I can transmit from your phone to any other phone within a 2-3 year range of our current location.

-Cool.

Sara focused back to Ava. “Okay, Sharpe, give me your digits.”

Without allowing herself to continue to overthink, she rattled off the seven numbers to Sara.

Moments later, her phone dinged with a new message. She checked and found an emoticon flipping her off followed by the smirking purple devil and the sunglasses smiley face.

“Didya get my text?” The Legend snickered.

Ava sighed exaggeratedly, but the corners of her mouth teased upward. It was hard to be upset with Sara when she was this playful. “I got it.”

“Good deal.” There was an awkward pause. “So….yeah. I’ll let you get back to it, Sharpe.”

Ava held up her phone, feeling foolish when she realized how ridiculous she likely looked. “Thanks for reaching out, Lance.”

“Maybe go ice that head.” Sara winked at her and closed the vid call.

TEXT – December 19th

7:52pm Lance: Gary is a dork. How do you put up with him?

8:11pm Pantsuit: He might grow on you.

8:13pm: Lance: Doubt it.

TEXT –December 20th

2:18pm: Lance: Do you miss us? I mean, we are a constant joy for you. How are you surviving the days?

2:20pm Pantsuit: Quite well, thanks.

2:29pm: Lance: Awww. We are delightful.

2:45pm: Pantsuit: Whatever you have to tell yourself, captain.

2:46pm Lance: That’s mean, Sharpe.

TEXT –December 21st

12:17pm Lance: Jax is really struggling.

12:22pm Lance: He’s been a little out of it on our last two missions.

12:30pm Lance: I’m worried but I get it.

12:48pm Pantsuit: Losing a partner is hard.

12:50pm Lance: Loss is something I’m used to.

1:02pm Pantsuit: Yes. But watching someone else deal might be different?

6:17pm Lance: I miss Christmases when I was a kid.

6:19pm Pantsuit: No Beebo Day celebrations for you and your family?

6:22pm Lance: Har, har. Sometimes I just wish I could go back to when everything was simple.

6:23pm Pantsuit: When the only thing I had to worry about was what color my new bike was going to be or whether the guys on my street would finally let me play flag football with them.

6:30pm Lance: We are gonna come back to that football thing, but yes, when we didn’t have to worry that every choice could be wrong.

6:31pm Pantsuit: Knowing every wrong choice could result in changes in the timeline or someone getting hurt. Or worse.

6:40pm Pantsuit: You know, captain, our jobs are really not that different.

6:42pm Lance: Are you admitting that the Legends aren’t fuck ups?

6:45pm Pantsuit: Never. (smiley face) Just that what we deal with daily probably isn’t that different.

6:46pm Lance: I wrangle children for a living and try not to die while fixing weird shit happening in the past.

6:46pm Pantsuit: Same.

6:58pm Lance: Don’t get all sentimental on me, Sharpe.

TEXT – December 24th

1:37am Lance: You up?

1:39am Lance: Jax is leaving the team. I can’t blame him.

1:43am Lance: There are days I want to just walk away, too.

1:47am Pantsuit: I’m up. Wanna talk?

1:48am Lance: Nah. I’m good.

1:54am Pantsuit: Yet you texted me after 1am.

1:56am Lance: Sorry about that. I know you need your beauty rest.

1:57am Pantsuit: Sara. I’m serious. Do you need to talk? I’m a good listener.

1:57am Lance: No. But thanks. Really. I’ve got to go decorate for a party.

2:01am Pantsuit: You have to decorate for a party at 2am. I’m confused.

2:08am Lance: I’m not going to let Jax sneak off the ship without a party. He deserves one.

2:10am Pantsuit: Agreed but at 2:00am?

2:11am Lance: We’re the Legends. We never do anything normal.

2:20am Pantsuit: Want help decorating?

2:21am Lance: Can you make a Christmas tree look decent?

2:22am Pantsuit: Be right there.

2:26am Pantsuit: Um…can you open a portal to my apartment? Just remembered that I don’t currently possess a time courier. Gideon has the coordinates.

2:27am Lance: What makes you think I have one?

2:28am Pantsuit: Sara.

2:29am Lance: Fine.

As she strolled into the lab/rec room, feeling conspicuous in the old jeans and t-shirt she drug out of the back of her chest of drawers, Sara wordlessly handed her a tangled ball of white Christmas lights and gestured to the sad, matted, fake firs leaning up against one wall.

They decorated the room largely in silence, neither finding the need to make conversation.

The woman was obviously exhausted, shoulders tight and emotionally shut down. Ava kept stealing occasional glances at her, concerned but trying to be supportive by just being there and not pushing the captain.

They weren’t really friends, after all, yet she wanted to be here. Sara had reached out to her, even while claiming she didn’t want to talk, so here Ava was, decorating a tree for the first time in years for a bittersweet going away/Christmas party.

Once she had the trees set up and strung with lights and silver/gold ball ornaments, she started adding clusters of candles and greenery here and there.

“You should have been a decorator.” Sara mused from behind her, making her jump a bit.

“Ha!” Ava retorted. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then I wouldn’t be a pain in your ass.” She made sure to grin so Sara would know she was joking. Given their combative past interactions, she wanted to ensure there were no miscommunications about her intent.

The woman laughed. “True. Help me with this vid screen.”

“What are you doing?” She tried not to be snarky but sometimes the incredulity peeked through no matter.

Sara, hand on her hips, scowled at her, mischievously. “You can’t have a Christmas party without a yule log. Seriously, what kind of heathen do you think I am?”

“No comment.” Ava muttered, to which Sara scoffed in reply.

The two women worked together to hang the flat screen, and then Sara took a step back to admire their handiwork.

She brushed her hands together. “Done.”

Ava followed her gaze around the room. Ironically, the decorations were a perfect representation of the two of them – Sara’s multicolor strands hung haphazardly outlining all the windows and doors. There were strands of colorful light curled around the legs of the serving tables and the one long table the captain had dragged into the room from the galley. Fun, playful, pretty.

Her own contributions were precise, measured, subtle. Everything was in its rightful place. Typical of her.

The balance of both strategies was somehow very festive. Then her eyes fell on the food table.

“Sara?”

Sideye, with a slight lip curl was her only reply.

Ava was amused at the teenage rebelliousness which sometimes showed in the deadly assassin. “You aren’t really gonna serve them chips and dip, right?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” The captain challenged.

“I’m sure Gideon and I can work together to come up with a plan,” she replied, wryly.

Sara snorted. “Gideon hates you.”

_Maybe not that much anymore._

Ava walked to the galley, mentally crafting a holiday meal menu, even if it was almost 3am. Time was bizarre in the temporal zone.

“Gideon, can you please help me with something?”

“Traditional or modern fare, Miss Sharpe?” as if the AI was reading her mind but more likely had simply overheard her discussion with Sara.

She thought for a moment, trying to determine her options given what she knew about the Legends.

“What do you suggest, Gideon?”

“Good food and a large quantity of alcohol.”

Ava laughed and stepped up to the fabricator. “Let’s do it.”

The captain joined her a few minutes later. “Holy crap. What’s all this?”

“Holiday party food for actual grown-ups.”

“Rude.” She pretended to be hurt and offended.

“But true.” Ava smirked, knowing she was right.

Sara relaxed and smiled. “Okay, I need to call everyone in, get some help carrying this fancy adult dining experience into the rec room.” She turned to leave, but paused, looking back at Ava. “You staying?”

“I don’t think so. This is a family thing.” Sara nodded, as if understanding her reluctance.

“Well, thanks for helping out. I couldn’t have gotten this shindig together without you.” She hesitated, as if trying to form the right words. “Thank you for answering my late-night text. Have a good night, Ava.” Sara quickly exited the room, not giving her the chance to reply, to reassure the woman that she’d always answer her texts, no matter the time.

It was only then that Ava saw that Sara had slid a time courier onto her wrist without her even noticing.

An unfamiliar, somewhat disquieting warm feeling inside followed her through the portal home and back into her bed.

TEXT – December 25th

10:13am Pantsuit: Merry Christmas, Sara.

10:14am Pantsuit: And happy birthday.

2:51pm Sara [contact updated]: Thanks!

4:12pm Pantsuit: How’s your day going?

4:14pm Sara: Don’t ask. Everyone is hung over. Legends drinking contest last night after we dropped Jax off in Central City.

5:20pm Sara: I can hear you being all judgey over there.

5:22pm Pantsuit: No judgement here. Holidays are hard for some people. I imagine it’s not fun being away from everyone’s friends and family.

5:30pm Sara: You don’t have big family stuff today?

5:31pm Pantsuit: I’m an only child and not very close to my parents…it’s a long story.

5:43pm Sara: I’m here if you ever want to share that story. I can be a pretty good listener, too.

5:44pm Ava [contact updated]: I’ll keep that in mind.


	11. Chapter 11

TEXT – December 30th

2:06am Sara: I can’t sleep.

2:11am Sara: You are probably asleep.

2:12am Sara: I can’t stop thinking about Rip being in prison. He’s an asshole, but he was right about Mallus.

2:26am Sara: Should I be worried about Jax? I know he’s a grown man. We just don’t know what Martin’s formula will do in terms of Firestorm long term. They didn’t have time to test it before he died.

2:29am Sara: What if he isn’t okay? Do you think he’d tell us?

2:32am Sara: He’s like my little brother. I can’t lose anyone else.

Ava sleepily pulled on a robe over her pajamas and opened a portal to the Waverider bridge, glad that Sara had given her what she imagined was one of several “extra” couriers in the Legends’ possession for her to use while suspended.

“Agent Sharpe?”

“Sorry to arrive unannounced, Gideon. The captain—”

“—is currently texting you and drinking straight from a bottle of whiskey in her quarters.”

“Right.”

“Might I suggest you make some coffee and I will send her to the galley?”

“Agreed.”

Ava leaned on her hand, slouched into one of the dining chairs. Her other hand curled around a warm mug, and her eyes blinked slowly, trying to force herself somewhat awake so late/early.

Sara shuffled in, in sweatpants and a hoodie and collapsed into the chair opposite her. Ava wordlessly pushed another mug across to the woman, who sipped and then hummed appreciatively.

“Hot chocolate?”

“With whipped cream. Figured you needed it.” Both avoided acknowledging that badass assassins wanting or needing whipped cream might do some damage to one’s reputation.

The captain nodded and focused back on the mug.

Ava was content to sit and share the space, letting Sara take whatever comfort or support she wanted to from her being there.

Once again, the woman had reached out, long after her team was in bed, and once again Ava had come to her, no questions asked, no strings attached.

After their mugs were emptied and refilled, Sara finally decided to start talking, but not about the topics of her early morning texts. Maybe it was easier for her to open up via text without Ava being there.

“All we are missing now is a sabre tooth tiger.” She smirked and Ava giggled, causing Sara to genuinely smile widely in response.

“Did you just giggle, Agent Sharpe?” she asked, somewhat disbelievingly.

“No. Agents don’t giggle, Lance. It’s against Bureau protocols.” Ava deadpanned.

“Thank goodness you are already suspended because that was a damn fine giggle. And you have a sense of humor. There are definitely regulations about that.”

Ava blushed slightly. “Shut up.”

“You’re still just annoyed I saved your life,” she taunted facetiously.

“Maybe. But that tiger was terrifying.”

Sara continued to tease her, as the tension in the room receded in their shared mirth. “I thought you were a cat person.”

“That was not a cat. That was an ancient beast that was very focused on eating me.” Sara grinned at her and waggled her eyebrows. “Stop,” Ava chuckled when she ran her statement back through her own head.

“Come on, Ava. You made that too easy.”

“I did. It’s too early in the morning.” Ava grumbled, halfhearted in her objection.

Sara’s amusement slid away. “Yeah, I’m sorry for waking you up. Again.”

“Sara, no. I didn’t mean it as a complaint. I’m glad you texted.” Ava reached over and touched her arm, lightly. “You can text me anytime.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She forced herself to pull her hand away and put it in her lap. Casually touching Sara was becoming too much of a habit.

Ava noticed she had done so several times when she was helping decorate for the party a few days ago without really thinking about it. For her part, Sara seemed unaware of the brief touches, and Ava wanted it to stay that way. This little crush was embarrassing enough without Sara possibly noticing her slight interest.

“You ready to go back to work?”

“Not really, honestly.” Sara appeared surprised by her answer.

“I enjoy working at the Bureau, but things have been really tense since Rip was put in prison. I wasn’t joking when I said the agency is in disarray. There are so many competing interests, and all I want is for my teams to be as safe as possible and to just be able to do their jobs.” Her mixed emotions and deep concern for her team were plain to see.

“Damien Darhk seems to be putting a dent in a lot of people’s plans lately.”

Ava had to stop her hand from reaching back out to touch Sara’s arm. “I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling having to face him again.”

“If he really is working with Mallus, we are going to have our hands full. I can’t let my personal baggage with him put anyone else in harm’s way.” Her dogged determination was clear.

Trying to lighten the mood a bit, the agent kidded, “Be careful, captain. That’s awfully adult-y for a Legend.”

“Fuck off, Sharpe…Seriously, you and I are going to need to share information and resources. Rip put us in our respective places for a reason. We should be able to figure this out.”

“Are you suggesting a mutually beneficial alliance?” Count her intrigued by the prospect of such an overt arrangement.

“Yes. We can help each other. You are the only person at the Bureau outside of Rip who believes that Mallus is real. Rip’s right in that we have to prepare for what’s coming, even if he is a selfish ass.”

Ava concurred. “Agreed.”

Sara lifted her hot chocolate in a toast. Their mugs clinked together, formalizing their partnership.

“I guess I do need to talk to Rip but getting to him is challenging right now. Perhaps Gideon can utilize some back door to reach out to him. He needs to know what you experienced in Vinland. Maybe he has some insight,” she mused.

“Agent Sharpe,” the A.I. chimed in, “the Bureau detected my communication channel with Captain Hunter several days ago and has blocked my ability to reach out to him.”

Ava sighed. “Then I’ll have to do communicate with him some other way.”

“We need all the info we can get.”

The yawn overwhelmed Ava before she could stop it. Sara patted her hand and pulled the agent’s empty mug away.

“It’s time for you to head home and get back in bed, Ava.”

The agent smiled and then yawned again, making them both chuckle.

They stood, and ambled slowly and somewhat aimlessly through the halls of the Waverider in the general direction of the bridge, though both knew that Ava could portal home from anywhere on the ship and that they had walked much further than absolutely necessary to get from the galley to the bridge.

Once on the bridge, Ava activated the courier, and her bedroom shimmered into focus.

Sara remarked, “You’ll be back at work in a few days.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to wait until then if you want to talk…” she hurried to add, “about any of this Mallus stuff.”

An amused, playful eyebrow arched higher on Sara’s face. “Just the Mallus stuff?” She asked, joking, but Ava could hear the uncertainty in the question.

“No. No. You can text or call me for any reason. I’ve already said that, Sara.” Ava wanted to make sure the captain knew she was completely sincere in her offer.

“Thank you for that. I…well…just thank you.” Her voice trailed off. Sara leaned back fractionally and gestured toward the open portal. “Goodnight, Ava.”

“Sara, get some rest.” Concern seeped into her voice.

“I will. I promise.”

Ava walked through the portal, turned and waved slightly before the portal closed, voice echoing softly in the empty bridge. “Goodnight, Sara.”

TEXT – January 1st

12:03am Sara: Happy new year, Sharpe.

12:11am Sara: Are you already asleep? It’s New Year’s Eve.

12:32am Sara: You are such a grown up.

7:36am Ava: Good morning, Sara. Happy new year to you as well.

2:19pm Sara: What the hell were you doing up so early?!

2:20pm Sara: You went to bed at some ungodly hour like 9pm last night, didn’t you?

2:41pm Ava: I always get up around 7am on my days off. I was on my way out the door for my run.

2:46pm Sara: That’s absolutely disgusting, Ava. You run first thing in the mornings?! How do you tolerate the annoying sunshine and fucking loudmouth birds?

2:49pm Ava: It gives me time to think and clear my head for the day.

2:51pm Sara: On your day off.

2:52pm Ava: I don’t have to be working to be thinking.

2:55pm Sara: Thinking about anything in particular this morning?

2:56pm Ava: Not really. Just pounding the pavement.

2:59pm Ava: I was thinking about how every new year gives me a chance to start over with a clean slate.

3:01pm Sara: Profound.

3:07pm Ava: Jerk. I’ve had a lot of time to think the past few weeks, and I’m tired of being married to my job. I love the Bureau…but there’s more to life than work.

3:09pm Sara: I wouldn’t know since I literally eat, sleep, breathe, and live with my coworkers. Now that I think about it, that’s been true for as long as I remember, even before the Legends.

3:10pm Ava: True. I guess I shouldn’t complain.

3:15pm Sara: You could always live with Gary.

3:19pm Ava: Ew. No. No living with coworkers.

3:21pm Sara: You’d rather just live alone?

3:22pm Sara: Sorry. That may be out of line and presumptuous of me. I know it’s hard to have a normal life with what we do.

3:36pm Ava: Not out of line and not wrong. The Bureau doesn’t allow for much of a personal life, but I do enjoy the peace and quiet of living alone. I haven’t wanted anyone in my space in a long time.

3:38pm Sara: Peace and quiet. I don’t even know what those are anymore. I hide all the time just so I can hear myself think.

3:40pm Ava: The fearless captain of the Waverider finds hiding places on the ship…

3:42pm Sara: Shut up, jerk. I live with children.

3:45pm Ava: Yes, you do.

3:48pm Ava: If it gets too hectic over there, you can always come hide out at my place.

3:53pm Sara: I’ll keep that in mind.

TEXT – January 4th

6:47am Sara: Good luck at work today.

7:15am Ava: Thanks.

3:20pm Sara: An old friend needs help. Looks like Mallus is getting around. Let’s catch up soon about what you learn from Rip.

Ava’s courier sounded late on her first day back at work. She was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. She’d been stuck in meetings all day, and none of the news was promising.

She glanced down and noted new coordinates, though these seemed to indicate the Waverider was headed to Star City in the fairly recent past. Huh. That was a little unusual.

The agent briefly wondered what they could be up to and realized that even if Sara had given more info via text message, she’d left her phone in her briefcase all day, having walked out of her office to put out a fire before she had even had a chance to sit down behind her desk this morning.

Though she doubted she’d catch the captain before the Legends set off on their next great adventure, Ava decided to take the chance and call to give Sara the minimal update she had after her lengthy, frustrating day.

She had, had zero luck related to Rip. The guards who had been on duty the last time she’d tried to visit him were nowhere to be seen and that entire wing of detention was closed. Ava had noted Bennet’s team skulking about, so she imagined Rip was not having a good time of it.

Ava’s requests for a virtual meeting with the Director were denied several times. He was obviously still pissed at her; she had information vital to the mission, but he likely saw no reason to see or listen to her regardless of the urgency she tried to communicate to his admins. She knew he was in meetings on the hill for at least some of the day. Ava was one of his ADs, however, so he was going to have to listen to her eventually, even if he didn’t want to.

Ava suspected that part of the reason Bennet disliked her was plain jealousy over the respect other agents had for her, respect she had earned through hard work and the sacrifice of long hours of her life. Maybe he viewed her as a threat, or maybe he was simply a controlling, dominating asshole who hated anyone, especially a woman, challenging him. Regardless, he would have to talk to her soon no matter his personal opinion of her.

She’d reached out to Tracey and Shepard briefly upon her return, yet she didn’t want to have to bring them in on this necessary conversation about Mallus until she had no choice.

The agent was aware of how crazy it all sounded, and without further proof beyond Rip’s word and now Sara’s, Ava doubted anyone would be moved by her pleas to take this time demon seriously.

“Ava, hi. Any progress with Rip?” The captain leaned back against Gideon’s console, holding her hands in front of her and sighing, as if she’d had a long, frustrating day, too.

Ava echoed her sigh. “Not yet.” She moved from her standard Bureau parade rest position and crossed her arms, irritation evident. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m still waiting to meet with Director Bennet. Unfortunately, no one here believes that Rip was right about Mallus being real. I’ve even been barred from visiting him while he’s incarcerated. It’s a whole mess of red tape.”

She was at work, so she had to keep her cool, especially on her first day back from suspension, but her voice betrayed how extremely annoyed she was and how helpless she felt over the entire situation.

Ava knew Mallus was real. She had seen the void, even if she didn’t see or hear him. She trusted Sara 100%, which in and of itself told her how much things had changed for her over the past few months.

“Well, if anyone can get through it, it’s you.” Sara’s short, simple expression of faith in her indicated how much had changed between them, as well.

“Thanks. I could use a little encouragement.” She was a bit embarrassed to admit that very un-agent-like truth, looking away from Sara momentarily.

“I think what we could both use is a glass of wine.”

There. At the end of that seemingly innocent, near invitation. For one flicker, Ava saw a small, secret smile, not just a smirk, on Sara’s face. A glint in her eyes. Playful, yet almost seductive.

_Is she flirting with me? That was definitely flirting…right?_

Agent Sharpe fell away immediately, helplessly, as Ava laughed like a school girl, brushing her hair out of her eyes and glancing down to hide the flush that suggested to what extent she would very, very much like to share a glass of wine with Sara, only to have her eyes betray her by looking up at the object of her crush, hopeful that the woman was giving some indication of interest as well.

But the captain was staring intently at something interesting on the floor, seemingly hesitant to meet Ava’s eyes.

She had to get herself under control before she said or did anything stupid that would make Sara even more uncomfortable.

_You are a grown ass, lesbian woman. Get your shit together, Ava!_

“Well, I better…go.” Arms slipping back into her safe zone, behind her back, hands clutched tightly; her words were hurried. “So, I will let you know how things progress.” She almost managed to pull the agent persona back in its place firmly, but Ava could do nothing to stop the warmth that slipped into her voice and her smile. “Bye.”

She flopped into the nearest chair in her office, heart pounding in her ears.

If that was how she responded at the vaguest hint of interest on Sara’s part, Ava was in big trouble if the woman ever actually tried to seduce her or even tried something more conventional like ask her out. She doubted, however, that the captain was in any way conventional, especially when it came to whatever this was she felt simmering between them.

Ava thought she was alone in her interest. She’d tried to dismiss it or contain it deep within the realm of impossible fantasy. And 99% of the time, these completely unprofessional and unattainable desires stayed there.

Yet something had shifted between them, almost imperceptibly. Maybe this crush wasn’t quite as one-sided as she had believed. That she was unable to pinpoint when the change had occurred didn’t bother her.

For her part, Ava admitted she found Sara extremely attractive from the first time she had laid eyes on her. The picture in the Bureau file on the team of Legends in their ridiculous costumes had not done the blonde former assassin adequate justice, though she secretly thought Sara’s getup was fucking hot.

Sara just had a thing, _the_ thing that demanded attention. It wasn’t merely the sheer confidence or lithe body or determination that caught Ava’s eye.

The fearlessness with which the Legend had faced down 20+ automatic weapons without blinking and the coolness with which she had taken away Ava’s own gun before the agent could even register the movement was what had turned her head.

Yes, she had mentally brushed the entire event off, righteously indignant because _who the hell did those assholes think they were waltzing into the lobby of a secure facility_.

But…but Ava could not forget the ice blue eyes, steel resolve in them, challenging her to try to rise to the occasion. Daring her to be Sara’s equal. That moment had twisted something in her gut, and it hadn’t let go.

The twisting had only grown stronger as the months passed, and Ava was able, finally, to see beyond her own prejudices and preconceived notions to the real, live woman. Sara was fucking dangerous, and Ava was largely defenseless in this battle. The captain was everything she ever yearned for in a possible sexual partner and so, _so_ much more.

The agent shook her head, exasperated and embarrassed. She was too old to feel this way, to be crushing on someone this hard. It had been years since Ava had felt any interest in pursuing anything with anyone, yet Sara was scratching at the walls around her agent-hardened heart.

This whole thing was such a bad, bad idea. Ava just didn’t know how to stop it, even if she could. She wanted to spend as much time as possible with the captain, Bennet be damned, Legends be damned, Rip be damned, and Mallus be damned. She wished for the world to pause, just long enough for her to breathe this terrifying, undoing, bubbling emotion in, to appreciate everything that might be happening between them.

Life waited for no one, though.

She was going to have to pull herself together and address everything else around her before she could revel in the luxury of maybe, possibly feeling anything for Captain Sara Lance.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because CW is going to make us wait extra long for Legends Season 6, I've decided to finish posting my entire story today. 
> 
> We are patient fans and the season 6 hints are extremely intriguing/exciting, but delayed gratification of asking fans to wait almost a year for the show to return is somewhat cruel...although, our favorite ladies are now described as "co-captains" so that's pretty awesome.

The date for her tribunal arrived. They’d obviously given her a few days to get things sorted upon her return before setting the meeting. Ava was not overly concerned about her hearing, but any discussion of her future with the Bureau was unsettling.

Bennet had ignored her calls and requests. Being on the outs with him was making her life more challenging, but the threat of Mallus was growing with or without his acknowledgement. Ava continued to fear that Mallus and the Darhks were all tangled together in one big evil mass, but her hands were tied as long as Bennet froze her out.

It had been a few days since she’d heard from Sara, which was disappointing. Throughout her suspension they had been keeping in regular contact, but maybe now that she was back at work, the captain had decided to return to contact that was only work related.

Ava had texted a few times, ostensibly to keep Sara up to date on her progress trying to reach Rip, but many of her texts had also shared funny things she’d seen or heard on her morning runs, entertaining memes Gary had shown her, random facts she picked up on a mission, or wry observations about her coworkers.

Without replies, her texting had slowed and then stopped. Ava didn’t want to come on too heavily by assuming levels of friendship they maybe hadn’t established. So she stepped back, giving the captain space.

The logical part of her reminded her that Sara was likely on mission, the one involving the “old friend” and that, that mission could be requiring the captain’s full attention.

Still, being Ava, her mind assumed the worst.

Director Bennet pointedly cleared his throat, bringing her back to her uncomfortable reality, sitting facing the three of them. She sat up straight, shuffled her papers in front of her, crossed her hands loosely in front of her on the table, and looked at them expectantly, patiently.

Liz Tracey, as HR Director, was obligated to get the hearing started. “Agent Sharpe, this tribunal will determine whether you may resume the rank and privileges associated with your position previous to your recent suspension. We have reviewed your employment records thoroughly.”

Shepard joined in the opening comments as well. “Upon that completion of that evaluation, the majority of this panel concluded that your performance as an employee of the Time Bureau has been above reproach.” He held a hand up, stopping whatever objection Bennett was planning to level. “You have worked your way up through the ranks by earning each and every promotion with dedication, bravery, selflessness, and leadership. The agents in your current charge are proud and honored to serve under you, and the mission record with your personal team is unmatched by anyone.” _Except the Legends_ , Ava mentally noted.

The security AD turned to Bennet and grandly, distastefully gestured, indicating it was the Director’s turn to speak.

“However,” Bennet groused, “your recent failures have called into question the viability and truthfulness of these previous appraisals, and I wonder if favoritism, perhaps, has played a role in your employment evaluations up until this point.”

Ava was outraged, rigid and livid, shaking in her chair. She bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood. The audacity of this man to sit and question her entire career and allege she had not worked her ass off to earn this position was hard to handle.

Bennet tilted his head with a sneer, as if waiting for her outburst, welcoming it.

It clicked in her head, then. His entire strategy was to undermine her integrity so that she exploded, putting her in a position of insubordination and making it oh so easy for him to move against her.

So, instead, Ava forced her entire body to relax. Taking a long breath, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her ankles underneath the conference table, the picture of casual but still professional engagement. She struggled but finally was able to successfully unclench her jaw, and then she smiled, widely, openly, obnoxiously.

Ava noticed Tracey biting her lip to hide her own answering grin. The HR Director had seen through Bennet’s ploy as well.

She held her smile, eyebrow rising to a comedic level, as if calmly awaiting Bennet’s further comments.

“Director,” Shepard warned.

“Very well,” Bennet grumbled. “My objections being duly noted, it is the position of this panel that your written responses to our inquiry detailing your unauthorized assistance to a group of Bureau fugitives who call themselves the Legends were sufficient. Your explanation that the increasing anachronism in Vinland could have had cataclysmic repercussions and, thus, created an imminent threat to both the agency and this country justifies your decision to disobey direct orders per Section III, Item 2904, subparagraph A of the Director and Assistant Director protocols.” He nodded once at Tracey to indicate that he had said his piece, somewhat deflated that Ava had not taken the bait.

Tracey tried so very hard to hide her glee but only somewhat successfully.

“Agent Sharpe, you are returned to your position as Assistant Director of the Time Bureau with all ranks and privileges thereof. This hearing is adjo—”

“—one more thing, Agent Sharpe.” Bennet had intentionally waited until that moment. He stood, walked over, and leaned down in front of Ava, getting as close to her face as remotely professionally acceptable. “If I discover that you had anything to do with helping Rip Hunter escape this facility, there is nothing that anyone, including your colleagues behind me, can do to save you.”

Ava sat, stunned, disbelieving, both at the veiled accusation and at the knowledge Rip had escaped.

“I will put you in a hole so dark and deep that no one will ever know you existed.” Bennett seethed.

“Director!” Both Tracey and Shepard objected.

Bennet leaned back up and stalked out the door without looking back at any of them.

“Holy shit,” Ava muttered.

Shepard glanced at Tracey. “Did you know? About Hunter?” He was both angry and confused.

Tracey slowly, almost mechanically shook her head. “No. I don’t think anyone does.”

“Holy shit,” Ava said again. “Rip escaped?! From our maximum-security facility?”

“Apparently we need a prison wing upgrade,” Shepard murmured.

Ava remarked, unsmiling, “No kidding.”

The seconds ticked past as they all stared at each other, dread, confusion, concern in their eyes.

“He didn’t inform either of you that Rip had escaped?” Ava inquired, just to make completely sure she understood the situation.

They shook their heads in eerie unison.

“This changes things for me, for my agents. Rip has information vital to our mission, and I have to find him.” Ava dusted off the imaginary lint on her pants and rose quickly from the table. She had several urgent calls to make, including one to the Waverider.

Shepard held up his hand to slow her departure. “Don’t forget that Rip’s a fugitive from the Bureau that will likely be under a killshot order from Bennet’s men given those agents’ deaths in London. I will make sure my men know that bringing him in is the highest priority, regardless of what Bennet may say. We have to get to the bottom of all of this.”

“Mm.” Ava agreed. “We need to access the footage and figure out when Hunter escaped.”

Tracey’s surprisingly serious voice chimed in. “I’ll start pulling names for a task force. We need our own people on this, and we are apparently several days behind Bennet.”

“I _hate_ playing catch up.” Shepard grumbled. He then looked up at Ava more fully. “Welcome back, AD Sharpe.”

She helplessly laughed at the entire situation. “It’s so good to be back, AD Shepard.” With that, she turned and left the room, striding toward her office. She really, really hoped Sara answered her hail.

Her com was sounding as she stepped into her office. Seeing who it was had her pushing her door closed and hurrying to get in front of the view.

“Cheeky bot.” Sara’s amused tone softly echoed in her office before the connection was fully complete.

When Ava could see the captain, standing bemused at one end of the Waverider hallway, she launched into her concerns immediately, rushing over any chance Sara had to explain why she was calling the agent to begin with.

“Captain Lance, I was just about to call you,” the overly formal words pouring out. In times of stress, it had always been Bureau protocols that gave her comfort. Now, the agency was falling apart, and Ava’s structure was cracking.

Though her message was urgent and her mind racing, she couldn’t help but notice that Sara seemed hesitant or unsure.

“Really? I mean…cool… ‘cause I just wanted to…compare notes, and I thought that maybe if you’d like to come to the ship—”

The woman kept glancing at her and then away as if she couldn’t decide whether looking at Ava during this exchange was something she wanted to do or not.

The last damn thing Ava wanted to do was interrupt Sara. She wished that she could hear the remainder of what this nervous, uncomfortable, obviously distracted, beautiful woman had to say. She hated Rip so, so much right then.

“—There’s no time. I finally got through the Bureau’s…red tape. It seems Director Hunter has escaped.”

“What?!” Awkward Sara was gone, and Captain Lance had returned. “Well, where is he?” Her ice blue eyes flashed in annoyance and concern.

Ava sighed. “We have no idea.” Her words echoed in the empty, still hallway. Both women understood the import of Rip’s escape: the Bureau would be thrown into further disarray, and they had just lost their best hope of learning more about Mallus, leaving them at a distinct disadvantage in the coming days.

“Agent Sharpe!” Gary threw open her door and slid in, apparently noticing too late that she was on a vid call.

Ava glanced at Gary and then back at Sara, filled with regret that she wouldn’t find out what had made Sara visibly nervous. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I have to go.”

“Of course, Agent. We will finish this conversation later.” Sara signed off.

Ava spun and glared at him. “What is it, Gary?”

“I didn’t realize you were talking to Captain Lance. How are the Legends doing anyway?” The only reason he hadn’t died or been fired on multiple occasions was that his heart was so big that it counterbalanced his seeming lack of common sense or self preservation.

“Focus,” Ava growled.

He blinked a few times. “Sorry. AD Tracey wanted me to get you these names as soon as possible. Also, Director Bennett has returned to D.C.” Gary handed her a folder and took several steps away from her desk, seeming to understand that he may have irritated her.

Ava demanded, “And you couldn’t knock or wait until my door was open to share this information?”

“She said as soon as possible, Agent Sharpe.” Gary shuffled his feet and stared at his shoes. Ava felt a little bad about it. Only a little.

“Fine. Thank you.” She didn’t want to take her day out on him. “Now please close my door on your way out. Oh, and Gary, go home. It’s well past quitting time.”

He nodded and then trudged to the door but he turned, as if he couldn’t leave without asking her, with obvious trepidation, “How did the hearing go, ma’am?”

Ava faltered. Of course, he had worried about the hearing. She was his boss and the closest thing he had to a friend at the Bureau, perhaps period. Now she felt like a bitch. Gary didn’t intentionally interrupt her chat with Sara, and he cared about her, even if his way of showing it frequently made her uncomfortable.

“Thank you for asking.” She tried to be as encouraging as possible with her smile. “It went well. Get used to having me around for the foreseeable future.”

“Yes!” Gary exclaimed and then tried to cover for his exuberance. “Good. That’s good for the team.”

This time, Ava’s smile was genuine. “It’s good for me, too, Gary. I love this job.”

“Me, too. Ok, well. Have a good weekend, boss.” He hurried from her office, as if he was afraid her sudden kindness might vanish.

“You too, Agent Green,” she called after him.

With that interruption taken care of, her mind turned back to a more pleasant contemplation, her recent exchange with Sara.

As if the subject of her thoughts was reading her mind, her phone dinged.

TEXT – January 10th

7:22pm Sara: I told you Gary was an annoying dork. Sorry I am just seeing all of these texts.

7:24pm Sara: I wasn’t ignoring you. Just so you know.

7:25pm Sara: Maybe we can catch up more tomorrow? Also, why are you still at the office this late?

The woman had a point. Ava was tired and worn out. She wanted to go home, shower, and crawl in bed. Whether she even paused to eat dinner was up for debate, though not eating meant that drinking a bottle of wine would be problematic for her early morning meetings.

7:30pm Ava: I’d like that. To catch up I mean. I’m shutting everything off and heading home. I’ve had a really long day.

8:16pm Sara: Oh, wait. Wasn’t your hearing today?! Are you still Assistant Director Sharpe, tyrant of time, ruler of red tape?

8:20pm Ava: Yes, I remain the bitch in your bonnet, queen of the quibbles.

8:21pm Sara: Sweet talker. Get some rest, and I’ll call you tomorrow.

8:23pm Ava: I’m crawling into bed. Night.

8:24pm Sara: Goodnight, Ava.

As she drifted off to sleep, Ava played their earlier conversation again in her mind. Sara had seemed flustered, nervous for some reason, very unlike the cool customer Ava normally dealt with.

Now that she was able to give the entire exchange more attention, there were other things that stood out as well.

At first, the captain had mimicked Ava’s stance, clutching her hands behind her back, and then, as if she realized how unusual it was for her to stand that way, she’d moved her hands to rest on her hips and then held them together in front of her body.

Sara’s intentional attempt at nonchalance would have been amusing and intriguing if Ava had not been solely focused on Rip’s escape.

The captain had almost stuttered several times while asking Ava to “compare notes,” something they had done repeatedly at this point.

She sat up in bed abruptly. Wait.

_Wait… Was that an invitation…not an off the cuff, “come help me with something” invitation but an “I want to spend time with you” invitation? A “maybe this could be more than friends” invitation? A “come see what happens when we drink wine together” invitation?_

Her mind spinning, she slowly eased back down onto her pillow. Had she really been so concerned about her job that she missed Sara trying to move things in a direction that Ava had only thought might be possible in her wildest imagination?

_Well…fuck._

But there was a small smile on her face as she faded into sleep, thoughts centered on ice blue eyes, a dimpled chin, and smirking lips demanding to be kissed.

The following day, Ava immediately answered the hail from the Waverider. She was buried in paperwork, responding to mission logs, queries, and team requests from across the agency, but after her late-night realizations, she refused to let her job intervene right now.

“Captain Lance.”

“Do you have to talk to me like that when you are at work? Is it like a Bureau thing that as soon as the suit goes on, protocol takes over everything else?” Sara sat at her desk, hair in a ponytail, legs casually propped up on the surface, eating a sandwich, smirking.

“Hello to you too,” Ava drily responded.

“It’s like a robot factory over there isn’t it?” the captain continued, as if she hadn’t spoken.

Ava scoffed dismissively and rolled her eyes. “Given how much time I spend cleaning up everyone else’s messes, I assure you that we don’t have a secret facility breeding our agents.” She shoved at the paperwork on her desk, as if making a point.

Sara didn’t buy the protest. “You love it,” her grin knowing.

The agent nodded. “I do. Sometimes.” The unsettled, disquieted feeling she’d had about her life and her choices leading her to her very accomplished but somewhat lonely life poked at her thoughts.

“I know what you mean. Seriously, though, Captain Lance is my dad. Don’t confuse me.”

“Okay, but you still have to call me Agent Sharpe when we work together.”

Sara whined, “Damn it, Ava. That’s like every day, all the time, technically.” She crossed her arms and huffed.

“I know.” Ava held her somewhat stern expression as long as she could and then laughed out loud at the look of childish petulance on Sara’s face. “Geez, Lance. Take the joke.”

Sara continued to pout until Ava relented. “I don’t care what you call me unless one of my team is around. Then I have to abide by protocols.”

The captain tilted her head, as if weighing Ava’s reasoning. “Fair enough. I guess the same is true for me. But if you don’t care what I call you when we aren’t around our teams, I’m going to borrow Rory’s nickname for you.” The wicked gleam in her eye told Ava she probably didn’t want to know.

“Oh god. Dare I ask?”

“It’s ‘Agent Hotcakes.’” The captain was struggling, unsuccessfully, to hold in her laughter at the look that must have been on Ava’s face.

“Sara,” she admonished lightly.

“No, it has a certain ring to it. Professional yet complimentary.” Sara was clearly having fun with this, pushing to see just how much she could get away with.

“Sara.” Her Agent Sharpe tone may or may not have slipped out.

“Okaaay. Spoilsport.” The woman had the audacity to stick out her tongue and roll her eyes.

Ava tilted her head, amused, before muttering wryly. “I’ve been called worse.”

Sara immediately retorted, “Not surprised.”

“Hey!” Fake outrage filled her voice.

“You are so easy, Sharpe.” That smirk was both infuriating and sexy as hell. The problem was that Sara _knew_ that. She had to know.

\--Captain Lance.

“Damn it, Gideon.”

\--I’m sorry to interrupt but you are needed in the lab.

Sigh. “I have to cut this short.” The woman was back to business, all flirtatious teasing aside.

“I get it. If there’s anyone in the world who knows what your life is like, it’s me.”

The offhanded comment, though valid, should not have made that much of an impact on Sara, but it clearly did. The abrupt change in her facial features from frustration regarding Gideon’s interruption to her gentle, almost awed response to Ava’s observation was not subtle…though the look was gone before she could comment or ask Sara about it.

Sara hoarsely responded, “That’s true, Ava. I’m sorry I have to go.”

Ava understood being on call, on duty every single second of every day, and more importantly, she understood how exhausting it was to never be able to say or do the things you really wanted to do instead. “I’ll be here.”

She wanted Sara to know it was okay, that they could pick up right back here whenever the Legend had wrapped up her responsibilities.

“I hope so.” The sadness and disappointment in Sara’s tone warred with her obvious annoyance, but the captain ended the call before Ava could respond.

She wasn’t surprised to receive updated coordinates less than a half hour later, but Ava had to admit to herself she was disappointed it would likely be a few days before she got to speak to Sara again.

The idea most central in her mind was figuring out how to inspire Sara to ask her to the ship again to pursue whatever the woman meant by "comparing notes"…


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I don't own the Legends or the dialogue between them. I am just borrowing it for a bit here.
> 
> Minor character death warning. Canon-typical violence.

Ava was caught off guard, but delighted, when her vid com rang the next day, close to quitting time.

“Hey.” The warmth she felt toward the captain was obvious in her voice. 

“Hey.”

“What are you up to?” 

“Oh, ya know. Crossword puzzles.”

Getting a closer look at Sara, Ava’s concern leapt ahead of her brain. “You look tired.”

“Thanks, jerk.” Sara scoffed.

“No no no. I didn’t…I mean…you always look…good. I just…You have a long day…or?” _Smooth Ava. Real smooth_.

“You have no idea. There’s this person on my team and she’s reckless. She doesn’t take orders.” The captain paused, frustrated. “And it’s like I want to tell her how important she is to this team, because she is, but…sometimes I tell ‘ya. She does not make it easy.”

It was rare to hear Sara so put out by a member of her team. They were family who loved and fought like family, yes, but whatever was troubling Sara seemed to go beyond a petty squabble. “What’d she do?”

“Well, she hijacked Gideon, crashed our entire system testing out some simulation software that finds loopholes in history.”

“That is definitely against regulations.” Agent Sharpe instinctively chimed in before Ava could shut that part of herself up. “...not that I haven’t been tempted to change the past.”

Sara grinned as if appreciating the struggle necessary for Ava to shed her ingrained agent reactions. “It’s just…I don’t even want to start looking for loopholes. Because then I’m going to start looking for ways to save my sister and then I’m gonna drive myself crazy.”

The open honesty took Ava by surprise. “Yes, you will…so don’t.” The anger and lingering loss over her murdered sister would have driven a lesser woman crazy already. 

“I’m just tired of always being the bad cop, ya’ know.”

Ava chuckled knowingly. “Believe me, I understand. Lost count of how many times I’ve had to yell at cadets for screwing up or bust them for breaking protocol.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I feel like you might _like_ that. You seem to get a kick out of ordering people around.” Sara was making fun of her.

Ava helplessly blushed and laughed in agreement with the observation. “Maybe...just a little bit.” She held her fingers slightly apart to demonstrate just how little/much depending on who you asked.

To get attention away from her, Ava queried, “So where are you calling me from? I don’t recognize that part of the Waverider.”

“Welcome to the jumpship.”

“Are you hiding, Ms. Lance?”

“Nooo. I am simply looking for some privacy.”

“Hmm…” Ava saw an opportunity and quickly gathered her courage. “Maybe I should come over…” The words were as overt and direct as she could possibly be in communicating her interest in spending quality time with Sara…in private.

But…she could see the captain retreat, backpedaling, closing off. “Yeah…yeah. But, like, I mean, I am sure you are super…super busy”

“It’s the perks of being the boss. I can just tell Gary I have a meeting.” 

“Yeah boss…speaking of…I should probably go check on the rest of the team. Make sure nobody’s gonna blow up the ship.” The flirtatious joking had faded away, as if Ava had imagined it.

“Okay…um…,” Ava rubbed her neck embarrassed, uncomfortable. Maybe she’d read the entire situation wrong. “But yeah…if you change your mind or whatever.”

_Be casual. Act natural. No big deal that she just shot you down…hard._

As if Sara could sense her panicked confusion, her voice warmed again. “I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Okay.” Ava nodded once, firmly, covering.

“And Ava… don’t work too late.”

As soon as the vid com clicked off, the agent kicked the trash can under the desk, scattering wadded balls of paper everywhere, and then immediately got down on the floor and started picking everything up.

Somehow, she had fucked up. Perhaps she’d pushed too hard or been too obvious, not letting this play out at whatever pace Sara wanted or maybe even needed.

Well, she could take the hint. If something was going to happen beyond their growing friendship, it was in Sara’s court to make that happen. For now, Ava would slide some of those emotional boundaries back in place to at least keep her mouth from running well ahead of her ability to edit herself as necessary. If friendship was all Sara wanted, then she’d figure out a way to be that friend.

TEXT – January 12th

7:51pm Sara: What’s a 7 letter word for “uncompromising”?

8:12pm Ava: Earnest. Or Certain.

8:13pm Sara: Thanks!

TEXT – January 15th

4:29pm Sara: Hey. I’m sorry I missed you earlier.

4:44pm Ava: That’s okay. I assumed you got tied up somewhere.

4:47pm Sara: You’d like that wouldn’t you…

4:56pm Sara: Are you free to chat tonight?

5:13pm Ava: Sure.

TEXT – January 17th

11:01am Sara: We are making a quick run to NYC to discuss the totems with some historian Nate found, so I’ll have to miss our normal lunch chat.

11:13am Ava: Be careful. Let me know what you learn.

11:14am Sara: Talk tonight?

11:14am Ava: Yes.

And so it went. They texted and talked during the day, usually around Ava’s lunch time (she tried not to ponder the effort that must take on Sara’s part to be available around the same time each day while floating in the temporal zone), and if either of them was busy during that time, they chatted at night. Sometimes both.

Even when Sara and/or Ava had been out on a mission, they talked daily whenever possible, and if it wasn’t going to be possible, they let the other know, usually through Gideon-relayed messages into or out of the field. Ava realized that Sara didn't want a repeat of her unavoidable, extended absence from communication several weeks prior when the Legends had tried to help a young, institutionalized Nora Darhk.

However, by some unspoken agreement, both likely trying to respect some line in the sand, Ava always made sure she was in her living room or kitchen when the captain called, and Sara always answered Ava’s calls in the parlour or the jumpship. Both respected the line – friends but nothing more…except the occasional flirtatious comment that Sara slid in seemingly unaware.

TEXT – February 2nd

11:47pm Ava: I lost two agents today.

11:53pm Ava: I trained with one at the academy. She introduced me to my ex. We’ve been teammates for five years.

11:54pm Ava: The other was a rookie. He’s only been with me for three months.

12:05am Sara: Ava. I’m so sorry.

12:07am Ava: It’s been a long time since I’ve lost anyone on my team. We are losing this fight, Sara.

12:11am Sara: What happened?

12:12am Sara: Unless you don’t want to talk about it.

12:14am Ava: I want to talk about it. I need to.

12:17am Sara: Are you still at work?

12:18am Ava: I just got home. I had to do the notifications.

12:36am Sara: Come let me in.

“You could’ve just portalled in,” Ava spoke softly, overcome with the sadness and guilt of her day, as she pulled the door open to the captain standing holding two coffee cups on her front stoop.

“Ava, I know you think I don’t have manners, but I’m not just going to portal into your apartment. What if you didn’t want me here?” Sara handed her the cups and then took off her leather jacket, placing it on Ava’s coat tree, communicating her intent to stay for a while.

“And yet…?” Her face stoic and tear stained, Ava’s raised eyebrow was the only indicator of that she wasn’t annoyed in the slightest.

The woman reclaimed one of the cups and shrugged. “Hey, this way you could grab the coffee and shut the door in my face if you wanted to.”

It earned the small smile Sara had been trying to get out of her. Ava moved down the hall, expecting Sara to follow her. “I’d never do that,” lightly objecting.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Sharpe,” she called. “You never know when I might really annoy you.” Sara flopped bonelessly on the loveseat, obviously remembering that Ava normally settled in the middle of the sofa whenever they were chatting.

“Mm. True.” Ava kept her back to the woman, leaning against the kitchen island. She needed to talk about what had happened on the mission, but she didn’t even know where to start. Sara seemed to content to sit in silence, giving her the time and space to do whatever she needed to do.

One minute she was drinking the chai, the next minute she was sobbing, shoulders shaking, clutching the countertop with whitened knuckles.

Strong arms pulled her away from the island and into a warm, safe hug. Their height difference made it slightly unwieldy at first until they both instinctively shifted a bit and then they just _fit_. Together.

It was only later that Ava truly appreciated the dichotomy of her feeling safer than she ever had while crying in the arms of a trained, deadly assassin.

In the moment, she struggled to keep upright, grief, anger, and exhaustion overwhelming her. Sara held her in place, strength to her fragility, warmth to her bleakness. Never wavering. Never faltering, even when Ava herself was breaking.

When her sobs had settled into the occasional sniffles, Sara guided her over to the sofa and gently lowered her. The Legend stepped away briefly, retrieving Ava’s drink and unfolding the blanket draped on the chair nearby. She then wrapped the blanket around the distraught agent and put the chai on the coffee table within easy reach for Ava.

When she moved back toward the love seat, Ava wordlessly patted the seat next to her. Sara nodded and settled in next to her, folding one leg under herself, facing her, reassuring but not pushing.

Ava sat staring straight ahead, appreciating Sara’s presence but unable to look at her while she recounted the events of the mission:

“It was supposed to be an in and out. I didn’t even bring my whole team, thankfully. We’d gotten notification that several seemingly insignificant changes had been made to the Magna Carta in 1215 England. Based on the information we had, the changes favored the church and altered property rights for certain barons, but we could not determine why the changes had been made or why the anachronism was registering as a level 5. Our analysts believed it was simply an issue of replacing the altered document with the original before it was presented to King John at Runnymede.”

As Ava spoke emotionlessly, robotically, she didn’t even notice when Sara’s hand came to rest on her arm in silent support.

“When we arrived at the meadow to switch it out, a small army of rebel mercenaries was waiting, courtesy of Damien Darhk who had assumed the role of one of the King’s closest barons. With just five of us in the field, we were quickly disarmed and separated. They took our couriers immediately.”

Without being aware of it, Ava’s hands clenched and unclenched in her lap.

“When Darhk arrived on the scene, he had us bound and made my team kneel in the grass. I was tied to a post.” The hand on her arm clinched and then released instantly. “I think he had planned to interrogate me, but he must have realized I was unlikely to break. So, he turned to Derrick.”

She paused, haltingly wiping away tears, struggling to breathe. Sara’s hand began to rub her arm, lightly, encouraging and supportive.

“Before we could do anything, he drew his sword and cut D’s head off. No warning. One strike. Darhk just laughed. He fucking LAUGHED, Sara. He said we were a waste of his time, a distraction, and that he was going to leave us for the birds to pick over.”

Ava bent her head, still feeling her teammate’s blood splatter across her cheek.

Sara shifted slightly on the sofa, moving to rub gentle circles on her back, offering wordless understanding and the shared burden of leaders who have lost people in their command.

“As if nothing happened, Darhk began one of his longwinded bragging speeches, congratulating himself on destroying the British commonwealth. His troops were excited to slaughter the emissaries who were meeting the King. As he dismissed them, Erica, who had somehow gotten free, knocked over one of her guards, grabbed his sword, and charged at Darhk.”

She pushed through, hurriedly as if forcing her mouth to keep moving.

“He picked her up easily, broke her neck with a flick of his wrist, and tossed her at my feet….She knew better. She’d seen what he did in London…but she was probably so angry about Derrick. He was like a little brother to her.”

“They doubled our restraints and then left us to die with Derrick and Erica. All we could do was listen to the fighting, look at the bodies, stare at each other, and wait.”

“I…I don’t know exactly how long we were there. At least two days. I lost feeling in my extremities and passed out at some point. Gary arrived with a rescue ops team. We had missed several preset check in points, so he knew what to do. Otherwise, I’d probably still be standing there.”

Ava deflated, leaned back to rest her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes tightly.

“No.” Sara’s cracked whisper was loud in the stillness. “No, Ava. I would have found you. We would have come for you.” Though muted, it was apparent Sara was shaking with rage and resolve.

Ava nodded in acknowledgment, but she didn’t have the wherewithal to respond appropriately to the fierce promise. Then. But she heard it and she felt it.

“I cleaned up back at the Bureau and then went with my HR Director to notify the families. I know someone else could have done it, but I had to.” Ava’s brow furrowed and emotion crept back into her voice, thinking about the horrified, devastated, angry, crying faces she’d met with over the previous hours.

“They were yours.” Sara murmured.

“Right.” She breathed deeply. “It was my fault. Their deaths are on me.”

“How? How is this your fault?” Sara’s hand slid around her forearm once more. “Ava, this isn’t on you.”

She knew this responsibility was something Sara knew all too well, so she also recognized that Sara knew how unlikely it was that Ava wouldn’t take responsibility for the deaths.

“It _is,_ ” she insisted.

“It _isn’t_.” Naturally, Sara would disagree. “You trusted your intel and planned accordingly. It was an ambush, Ava. You could not have known. It was a midlevel anachronism. Any of us would have thought five agents could handle that. I would have probably split my team up, too. You did nothing wrong here.”

“I know. But they still died. In front of me, Sara. I couldn’t protect them.”

“You were tied to a post! And don’t think I can’t fill in the blanks that there was more to it than that.” The woman’s voice faded at the end of her statement, heavy, injected with almost secret fear.

“I should have done _something_.” She couldn’t help it. Ava’s emotions were building, and the volume increased accordingly.

Sara examined her carefully. “What? What the hell more could you have done? Sacrifice yourself, too?”

“Yes! I should have done whatever it took to protect them! I should have been the one who died!!” Ava’s eyes flashed open, and she shouted, breaking, but Sara didn’t blink, didn’t move, didn’t shift her hand away from its light hold on Ava’s arm.

Instead, the captain met her angry, anguished gaze with an intense one of her own. She mouthed, almost too quietly for Ava to hear, “I, for one, am glad that you didn’t.”

Whatever else Ava had planned to say in anger, in protest vanished. Instead, she stood abruptly, pulling away from the comfort offered by the other woman. She paced, rubbing her arms, chilled, depleted, pushed to the limit.

Sara remained seated, hands curled around her knees, watching her but not intervening. Content to let Ava work through it.

“Erica and Derrick both have families. They weren’t married to the Bureau.”

“Ava,” Sara admonished, “they _chose_ to serve, capably and honorably from what you’ve said. If they were on your team, they were damn fine agents.”

“And they died.”

“Yes, they did.”

Sara let that truth stand in silence for several moments. The lives of the agents deserved that reverence.

“If I’ve learned anything in my life,” she continued gently, “it’s that death comes when you least expect it, and there’s nothing you can do to prepare yourself for it. Not being able to accept that cost me months of my life, Ava. I almost killed Rip and our entire team insisting that we save Laurel. But we couldn’t. I couldn’t.”

Ava maintained her distressed plod back and forth across the carpet, aimlessly, struggling to keep herself together, but listening to the words, to the inner most part of herself that Sara was sharing with her.

“Based on what you’ve told me, there was nothing you could have done to have saved them. All you could have done was die, too.”

Sara paused, as if steadying herself for what she was about to say.

“And while I get the temptation to follow the ones we love into the darkness, we have too much to do here. I need you here, Ava. I can’t take on Darhk by myself.”

She stood and stepped to Ava, wrapping her fingers around Ava’s elbows, forcing the agent to stop her pacing. Ava’s eyes lifted to hers, stormy, overwhelmed.

“It’s not your time.” Sara lightly squeezed her arms, keeping her attention focused fully on the words. “Your agents lived their lives on their own terms, just as you have. You will mourn them. You will remember them. You will carry them with you. But your mission continues, Agent Sharpe. Your team needs you.”

Ava nodded, eyes sliding closed in mute acceptance that there was nothing she could do to change anything. She leaned forward, pulling Sara tightly against her in a desperate hug.

“Thank you,” she sighed.

They eventually returned to the sofa, sharing late into the night, both recognizing and silently acknowledging the depth of familiarity and security, of knowing in the other what they never could have anticipated.

When Ava awoke alone in her apartment the next morning, she was covered in the blanket with a fresh, hot cup of coffee next to her on the table alongside a donut with sprinkles on it…and a bran muffin. She laughed for the first time in days.


	14. Chapter 14

Two weeks later, Ava traveled to Washington, D.C. for Agent Erica Dayton’s interment in Arlington National Cemetery. Before joining the Bureau, Dayton had served three tours in the Middle East following a long line of Marines in her family, none of whom knew where, when, or how she had died.

All Ava could explain to her husband and teenage son was why – she had sacrificed herself to protect her team. She deserved a hero’s burial, so Ava had pushed Bennet and used all of her own connections until a plot was obtained for the fallen vet.

Agent Sharpe stood surrounded by row upon row of white marble, watching somberly as the black limos pulled away. The brisk wind cut through her, pulling strands of honey blonde hair out of her bun. She found it fitting that the snow had waited to fall until the last notes of taps had echoed across the hallowed grounds, as if nature didn’t want to intrude.

Agent Derrick Isley had been buried last week in Star City.

The toughest part of her job was done. For now. She knew she’d stand at other funerals, though she privately pleaded with the universe that her own team be spared further loss for the foreseeable future.

Like Sara had done after Martin, Ava had no choice but to go on, to keep moving.

Before she returned to Star City, she had two meetings at Bureau headquarters, one with Bennet about her new agent training suggestions. At the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to be that concerned about it. She was prepared for the meetings and prepared for his response when she brought up Mallus. The battle would continue regardless of what he thought or believed.

Her job now was to get ready and to get her team ready. She would not be caught unprepared for Darhk again. She knew that the mission was not her fault and that their training was superb, but that would not stop her from pushing them harder and from digging deeper herself to get hardened for what was to come.

The agent turned, walking to her government-issued SUV with her team wordlessly moving behind and beside her.

Ava gestured for Gary to drive so she could stare out the window at the passing tombstones and falling snow. Beautiful. Haunting.

Her thoughts drifted to Sara, knowing that the captain would likely respond in a similar way to this view.

She could sense a further shift between them since Sara had come over to her apartment. There was a certainty, a trust, a knowing there that had not been there before. The nervousness and awkwardness were still an issue for Ava at times, but she no longer doubted that Sara felt a connection with her as well.

What they did with that connection or whether they ever discussed that connection or not remained to be seen. She was content to leave things in Sara’s able hands because she suspected the captain had reasons for her hot and cold behavior.

Their friendship, however, brought her much needed laughter and light. She could listen to (and watch) Sara laugh for hours, head thrown back, eyes twinkling, mouth wide, and cheeks crinkled. Based on the sideways looks she had been receiving from the agents whose offices were nearest hers, she imagined her own laughter in response was loud, wild, and free as well.

 _Free._ That’s what she felt around Sara. She was free to be herself without judgement or recrimination. Ava didn’t have to hide any aspect of who she was when near the captain, which was not her experience in any kind of friendship or relationship she had, had previously.

Even if they never moved beyond this friendship, Ava valued having someone who saw her for exactly who she was and wanted to be near her anyway.

The SUV eased into the curb at the hotel, and the agents piled out, gathering near the rotating glass doors.

Ava stepped over to them. “Take the next few days off. We’ve had a hard month, and there will be things we probably have to face in the coming months that may be even harder. But I know we can make it through together. Go home. Hug your loved ones. I will see you in the office on Monday.” She gave them a firm, professional nod, a tight smile, and then strode around the car.

Ava waited until the team entered the hotel before she pulled away, headed to her afternoon meeting. Even on the day of a funeral, the Bureau’s work – and Ava’s –was never done.

When she strolled down the concrete steps of headquarters several hours later, a thick bank of snow covered D.C., making the streets and sidewalks glow.

Relieved to be wearing her boots instead of dress shoes, Ava flipped the collar of her pea coat up and pulled out her bun, long hair whipping around her face, caught by the bitter air.

She had cut across the grounds to reach the SUV faster when her foot hit a patch of ice instead of the frothy snow she’d been traversing with ease. Before she could catch herself properly, she landed hard on her back, knocking the wind out of her.

After mentally inventorying her body to make sure she was largely uninjured, other than her pride, she took a second to simply breathe, appreciating the unexpected moment.

Ava had been nine or ten years old the last time she had been laying in snow. In all the successful adulting she’d pursued in her life, taking time just to watch the snow fall or play in the snow was not something she did, though it wasn’t like living on the west coast gave her much of an opportunity.

The laughter began unexpectedly, leaping out of her chest as if breaking free from an age-old confinement. Within seconds, she was curled on her side laughing hysterically, clutching her stomach with tears of happiness escaping from her closed but shining eyes.

Ava’s visual image of what she must look like, a mid thirties, deadly, trained government agent, laying in the snow dressed in her sensible blue black suit and plain black coat with her hair tangled across her face, guffawing, made the entire thing even funnier.

She rolled onto her back once more and made a snow angel because she could. No one was around. No one could judge her or wonder if she had lost her mind.

Yes, her agents were dead. Yes, that loss would follow her the rest of her life. But those agents had also _lived,_ and she needed to do the same.

Before she could overthink it, she snapped a quick selfie and sent it to Sara. She suspected the captain would smile at her crazy antics. Sometimes Ava could still surprise herself.

Laughter and amusement faded, the agent realized she was also very cold and wet. Her adult self clucked admonishingly inside her head. _Oh shut up_. Ava pushed up, moving slowly and gingerly until both feet were firmly under her before she stood up. She dusted the snow off and, with a wide grin on her face, stumbled and slid toward her car.

Brushing as much of the snow off the SUV as possible, she stepped around to the driver door.

Something hit her shoulder, knocking her off balance; she was saved from falling again only by grabbing the side mirror to steady herself. Ava whipped her head around, surveying the surrounding environment for any threat. Seeing nothing out of place, she warily turned back to the door only to be hit square in the chest by a massive snowball.

Ava released her hold on the car in pure shock, which led to an unfortunate fall onto her ass.

She glared up at the offender.

Sara Lance stood in the middle of the golden glowing, snow covered street, smirking like an arrogant asshole, tossing the snowball in her hand up in the air repeatedly. She wore a black beanie, a black snow coat with winter gloves tucked into the pockets, and heavy winter boots. Ava had never seen such a sexy thing in her entire life.

“You just gonna sit there on your ass all day, Sharpe, or can you handle a little snowball fight?”

Without warning, Ava pushed to her feet and charged the captain, who with a delighted laugh took off running. Even with her longer legs, the agent had no chance of catching the nimble former assassin.

They ducked in and out of any available cover they could find, street war raging, snowballs pelting each other from every possible angle. At one point, Sara leapt out from behind one of D.C.’s many stone columns and shoved snow down the back of Ava’s shirt, resulting in the most unladylike yelp of outrage imaginable.

From then on, Ava held nothing back. The woman was going down, face first in the snow if she had anything to say about it.

The fact that she was cold and soaking wet no longer mattered. She had completely forgotten, truth be told. Her focus was solely on the wonderful, enticing, smart, caring, funny, beautiful woman she was currently stalking up Constitution Avenue, trying to use the various statues to hide from Sara’s acute senses. She had almost reached the captain’s hiding place undetected when Sara abruptly spun on her and dropped another handful of snow into the front of Ava’s coat.

Instinctively, Ava reached out and grabbed Sara’s arm, pulling her to prevent her from fleeing again so easily.

As physics and luck would have it, Sara was not prepared for Ava to grab and pull her, so she lost her balance and tumbled toward the agent, which made Ava lose her own footing. In short, chaotic order, Ava landed on her back for the third time that night.

However, the curvy, muscular, warm body that landed on top of her eased her embarrassment in falling again. They were laughing, hard, Ava’s arms gently wrapped around Sara who was partially propping herself up with her arms on either side of Ava’s head. Faces flush, happy, they both reveled in the joy and child-like glee of their snowball fight.

Ava watched the slow change in Sara’s expression as she became aware of or perhaps acknowledged exactly how they were positioned, Sara’s hips resting lightly between Ava’s thighs, their abs pressed together, breasts brushing, bodies touching the full length of Sara’s shorter height. Their still smiling faces were only inches apart, frozen puffs of breath tangling, eyes caught, held.

Even with Sara’s winter gear, Ava could feel every inch of where their bodies touched. The slide of the melting snow against her skin did nothing to cool her off. Her heart pounded, and she unconsciously licked her lower lip, glancing at Sara’s lips. She could. not. move. Every muscle in her body was taut, demanding, wanting, waiting.

Sara, smile gone and eyes serious, intense, lowered herself ever so slightly and leaned forward, brushing her lips lightly across Ava’s hairline. Then, the weight of her body was abruptly gone as she hurriedly pushed up and off of Ava.

Not looking at Ava, she dusted the snow off herself and then held a hand out to help Ava up.

The agent closed her eyes, letting the anticipation, frustration, and disappointment roll through her. She had to accept that Sara was not willing to cross the line with her, no matter how much that might hurt her feelings. She couldn’t push or demand that the woman want something more than friendship with her.

But Ava wouldn’t let Sara see that hurt, so she did her best to school the look in her eyes and blinked them back open. She was surprised that Sara was no longer standing there offering to help her up. Instead, the Legend sat next to her, legs crossed. The agent sat up and spun her legs around so that they side by side in matching poses.

Sara held something out to her, and she glanced down, confused, to see a bundle of clothing. “I brought you a hat, gloves, and a scarf. Gideon reminded me that you probably didn’t have any winter gear.”

Ava smiled, trying to push the tension out of her mind. “Tell Gideon I said thank you.”

“Hey. I didn’t have to bring them.” Sara playfully shoved her shoulder.

She smirked in response as she pulled the warm gear over her wet, messy hair and the cold, wet fingers that had long since lost feeling.

Sara’s voice, hushed and content sounded beside her. “What are you doing Friday night?”

Ava chuckled, attention focused on bringing warmth back into her hands. “Want another round? Not sure where we can find snow in Star City.”

She missed the gentle, affectionate smile Sara directed at her.

“No, I’d like to take you out.” The movement of Ava’s hands stopped abruptly. She slowly turned to stare at the breathtaking woman sitting next to her.

“You want to take me…” Ava was obviously caught off guard; her brain was having a hard time catching up.

Sara remained faced forward, giving Ava time to recover her senses and giving her space without pressure. “Out to dinner. On a date.”

“With me?” Ava’s voice pitched higher, helpless in her confusion.

The woman smiled and turned to look at her fully, catching and holding her eyes so that Ava could see that she was not joking. “Yes, Ava. I’d like you to come to dinner with me on a date.

“Oh.” She breathed.

With one of her eyebrows raised, the edge of Sara’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “Oh?”

Ava closed her eyes to savor the moment, beaming grin growing on her face until the happiness spread throughout her body. And she giggled hopelessly.

When her eyes blinked open, she realized she had left Sara hanging a few seconds too long for comfort as the doubt in the woman’s eyes was apparent.

Ava hastily grasped the Legend’s hand, pulling it tightly to her and entwining their fingers. “Yes. Yes, I’ll go out with you, Sara.”

“Mm. Good. That’s…really good…You had me worried there for a second.”

They sat in relaxed, happy silence for several moments.

“I’m very sorry…but…”

“But?” The smirk had returned but only momentarily.

Ava shoved the handful of snow into Sara’s coat with one hand, yanked her other hand away from Sara, and scrambled up to take off running. She taunted over her shoulder as she ran for her life. “I’m not sorry for that!!”

“You jerk!” Sara hollered and took off running after her. She slammed into Ava right as the agent reached the safety of the SUV, pushing Ava up against the driver door.

“I can’t believe you did that, Sharpe. That was rude.”

“It was. But all is fair.”

“Really?” Sara tilted into her then, intentionally molding into Ava’s body, delicious curve matching delicious curve. She pushed up, inching closer, sliding slowly, erotically against her, breath caressing Ava’s lips.

The agent’s breath hitched and liquid heat immediately spread in her body. _Dear God_.

“Ava?” Sara’s voice was low, languid, sexy as fuck.

Ava leaned her head forward, closing her eyes, waiting in agonizing anticipation for the first brush of Sara’s lips against hers. “Hmm?”

She felt lips on the bridge of her nose instead, and then Sara’s weight was gone, followed by hearty chuckling. “I’ll call you tomorrow, agent.”

Ava sputtered.

“Oh…and Ava? All is fair, right?” Eyes twinkling, the captain sashayed away, laughter echoing into the night.

Ava stood there frozen, speechless, need pooling between her legs, long after Sara’s portal had closed. Even though she couldn’t believe Sara had just walked away, leaving her with desperate want, they were going on a date.

A date. In three days.

Her bubbling happiness carried her weightlessly through the drive back to her hotel.

She was going on a date with Sara Lance.

TEXT – February 20th

8:19pm Ava: Thank you for tonight. I needed that.

8:22pm Sara: I thought you might. Who knew you sucked at snowball fights, though?

8:23pm Ava: Seriously, thank you, Sara.

8:24pm Sara: Anytime.

8:31pm Ava: I’m looking forward to seeing you again Friday.

8:32pm Sara: Me too. I’ll text you with the details…unless you have any specific requests?

8:37pm Ava: No. I trust you.

8:43pm Sara: That may not be the best plan on your part. I am a Legend after all.

8:46pm Ava: You’ve grown on me.

8:47pm Sara: What can I say. I’m special.

8:49pm Ava: You’re something. Okay, I gotta get up early for a meeting tomorrow. I’m sorry to cut this short.

8:51pm Sara: No need to apologize. : )

8:52pm Ava: I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

8:52pm Sara: Please do.

Ava tossed the phone onto the bedside table, snuggled into the luxurious hotel sheets, and fell asleep with a grin on her face.

The grin stayed with her through the meetings, through Bennet’s pompous lecture, through everything the Bureau headquarters could throw at her.

The only time her good mood vanished was in the discussions about making sure the fallen agents’ families were taken care of properly and the rising power of Mallus. No one believed her, and she recognized that she was wasting her breath.

Ava was even more determined, however, to ensure she would lose no other agents at the hands of the Darhks or Mallus. She and Sara had to figure out something and fast.

With a potential change in her relationship status on the horizon, Agent Sharpe wanted to finish this battle and send these evil assholes back to the hellscape in which they belonged.

They agreed not to talk on vid com for the remainder of the week, both working overtime to clear the time and space necessary in their lives to be “out of the office” and off the grid -- if Ava had anything to say about it -- for at least 24 hours. Together.

She internally admitted that clearing her weekend was most _definitely_ making several assumptions about how well this first date with Sara would go, yet some part of her knew that even if all they did was talk, they would be talking for hours. Ava refused to be interrupted.

As she packed up her belongings a few hours earlier than normal on Friday, nerves jangling, she pulled Gary into her office and closed the door.

“What’s up, Agent Sharpe? Oh, you’re leaving early? Are you okay? Are you sick? What’s wrong? Do I need to contact medical?”

She held a hand up with an imperious glare until Gary noticed and wound himself down.

“Gary, under no circumstances should you contact me – for **any** reason – until Sunday at the earliest. I am absolutely **not** available from now until then.”

The squint and sagging open mouth was not a good look on him. “Buu…bu..”

Ava set her briefcase on the desk a little more forcefully than necessary. “Gary!”

“Boss…are you sure everything is okay? You never sign off for an entire weekend.”

“I’m fine. I have some….personal…business, that’s all.” She played absentmindedly with the strap on her briefcase, gaze moving around the room but not meeting his.

“Oh.” Gradually his entire demeanor changed, eyes sparkling and open-mouth smile spreading. “Ohhhhh. You have a date, don’t you?” He clapped his hands in excitement, twittering like a little girl.

“That’s not…what?” She glanced up in panicked alarm. “No, that’s silly…why would you…” Her stutter and blush were not helping her case.

He moved around the desk and stood closer to her than absolutely necessary, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Ava, I’ve worked with you for years. You’ve been laughing and smiling a lot more than I’ve ever seen. Something’s _different_.” She met his joyous gaze and couldn’t lie anymore, so she dropped her chin in confirmation, blush ruining her intense expression.

Gary took a step back from her, remembering their ongoing discussion of personal space, and motioned that he was locking his mouth. “Your secret is safe with me.”

She cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “So, no contact unless the building is burning down, Gary. Do we understand each other?”

He nodded repeatedly, stupidly grinned again like the raging idiot he sometimes was and scurried out of her office.

It occurred to her then that he hadn’t even asked who she was meeting tonight, as if he already knew.

Ava shook her head, gentle affection for him contending with her continual annoyance with him. Checking her desk and office one last time and taking a deep, long breath, she opened the portal home.

It had seemed like a great plan to give herself the afternoon off so that she could get ready for their date, but the anticipation and nervousness were somewhat incapacitating. She was beyond thrilled, obviously, but Ava was simultaneously overwhelmed with thoughts about what could go wrong. Thoughts about what could go _oh so right_ were not especially helpful, either.

Sara’s texts suggested a very nice, intimate restaurant, a restaurant in which it was impossible to get reservations, which had taken Ava a little off guard. She didn’t get the impression that dating was something Sara did regularly. The captain’s choice of such an exclusive, fine dining experience made Ava soft because it likely spoke to how much effort Sara was putting into this first date.

Knowing that Sara was making such an effort only increased the pressure Ava felt to do her part to create a wonderful date for them both…which is why more than half of her closet was spread haphazardly throughout her bedroom. Sara wasn’t the only one who did not date frequently.

What the hell should she wear?

Nothing seemed to be right, and in Ava’s mind, it needed to be _perfect_. Given that the woman she was meeting in a few hours saw her in a plain, sensible pantsuit 99% of the time, Ava refused to wear pants on this date.

Granted, Sara had also seen her in pajamas and a robe, but it felt important to make sure that her appearance helped draw a very clear, very strong distinction between Agent Sharpe who worked with Captain Lance and Ava, the woman who really, _really_ wanted to date Sara…often.

Truth be told, she wanted to take Sara’s breath away.

Ava doubted that Sara was experiencing a similar crisis of nerves; the Legend looked devastatingly good in everything she wore. Just imagining what outfit the lithe, sexy woman would choose shortened her breath.

Turning back to the various piles of discarded clothing items, Ava’s gaze landed on the long, flowing halter dress she’d impulsively bought last year for a black tie government event, only to leave it in the bag in lieu of something less revealing and more sensible.

If memory served her, the dress highlighted her upper body – toned arms on full display, cut shoulders and the hint of her collarbone peeking from beneath the taut straps. The navy fabric criss-crossed her chest snugly, enhancing the trace of black see-through mesh dotted with reflective gems which teasingly covered and drew attention to her lifted and slightly separated breasts.

If she paired that dress with mile high heels and the black lace garter set with which she’d rewarded herself after her promotion to AD last year – as she told herself at the time, _a woman deserves expensive, fancy underwear, damn it, even if she never wears it_ – she might, just might, be able to turn Sara’s head and keep her attention.

As she finally dressed, Ava realized that the outfit was in no way comfortable, but comfort wasn’t her mission that night. Shock and awe were.

Admiring herself in the mirror, she applied a final touch of light lipstick, complementing the natural but smoky look she was going for. With her hair down in waves and her thick, mascaraed lashes completing her appearance, she was as ready for this date as she possibly could be.

Ava slid into the waiting service car and tried not to fidget with her recently done nails.

TEXT – February 23rd

6:53pm Sara: I’m here. See you soon.

She grinned softly, her white-knuckled grip on her phone easing slightly. Sara was nervous, too, then.

Ava thanked and tipped her driver, appreciating that the man had sensed her nervousness and left her alone without awkward chitchat.

Admittedly, it took her several moments while standing outside the entrance to merely breathe. In and out. This _mattered_. She had to remind herself that they had spent hours together, sharing, laughing, falling deeper beyond mere friendship.

She understood she was already invested in Sara, the spaces in her life already entwined with the captain’s. Sitting across a table from the woman in a nice restaurant shouldn’t be this terror-inducing, but it was so far out of the element in which their relationship had developed that it almost felt like starting all over again. And maybe that’s exactly what this was – a beginning of something else, something _more_.

Ava didn’t want to lose or damage the friendship they had developed. It meant everything to her. But…on the other side of the door in front of her was an opportunity, a chance at something profound she’d felt vibrating and rising within her.

All she had to do was find the courage to reach out and open the door, trusting that - even if she fell, even if she was wrong about what her dreams urgently whispered this could be, even if things went sideways – there was an equal chance that she could be seen, _known_ , loved utterly, fully for the first time in her life.

She knew that Sara never did anything half way.

So, neither could she.

Ava willed herself forward, pulling open the door and stepping with more confidence than she remotely felt to the maître d’, who directed her to a table in the bar where her companion not so patiently waited.

Her grip tight on her clutch, Ava’s mind and her heart came to an abrupt stop.

Sara was there, anticipating her, looking for her, magnificent in a stunning, sexy red dress, blonde curls brushing her shoulders, head turned to greet Ava with a blinding smile and an appraising gaze.

A whispered refrain from Sappho drifted through Ava’s thoughts, louder than the white noise pouring through her:

_...for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking is left in me._

_My tongue breaks and thin fire is racing under skin._

_In my eyes, no sight and drumming fills my ears._

_Cold sweat holds me and shaking grips me all, greener than grass._

_I am dead – or almost – seem to be._

“Hi.” It’s all Ava could breathe out.

Everything had been leading her _here_. To Sara.

Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being on this ride with me, especially to those who commented and left kudos. Such encouragement truly matters to writers.
> 
> Fans getting confirmation in recent days from one of the LoT writers that our Ava is the same Ava who meets the Legends in 3.1 (and not a different cl**e) made this story matter even more to me. 
> 
> Her journey and character development is 100% the result of learning to feel (breaking her programming) and to want more for herself. Her growing attraction to Sara is the key that unlocks everything, but in my mind, she has to have developed an increased self awareness that a life revolving around the Bureau is no life at all. Ava has to accept that she deserves more and needs more in her life before she can allow herself to feel anything for Sara.
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Thank you. I feel so lucky to be a part of this fandom.


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